


The Order

by crazynadine



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Sex, Bipolar Disorder, Bisexual Female Character, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Child Abuse, Cults, Death, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Family Drama, Flashbacks, Gay, Homophobia, Horror, M/M, Minor Character Death, Monks, Mutual Pining, Nuns, OOC Mickey, Psychic Abilities, Psychic Bond, Religion, Slow Burn, Smut, Suicide, Supernatural Elements, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Ian Gallagher, Upir, Vampires, Violence, Werewolves, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2019-07-13 07:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 170,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16013603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazynadine/pseuds/crazynadine
Summary: A  quiet night under the full moon has more consequences than anyone could have anticipated.Ian just wants to relax by the fire with his brother and their friend. Mickey just wants to enjoy a quiet night alone in the forest. When their paths cross, it sets off a chain of events that will alter the course of their lives inexorably.





	1. Transmogrify

**Author's Note:**

> this is so beyond different for me. but i was inspired, and encouraged by some fandom cohorts, so here we go. no promises, it is what it is, friends....

Ian's still not sure how he let Lip talk him into this shit. Gallaghers don't camp. They don't pitch tents in the woods, or sit around campfires, or fish or do weird sing-alongs to out of tune acoustic guitar. 

But that is indeed where he finds himself in this exact moment. Fucking camping. He fidgets in his folding chair, trying to find a way to sit that's comfortable. His legs are too long to tuck underneath, and he's too close to the fire to stretch them out. But he's also pretty cold, so pushing away from the blaze is out of the question. 

Ian never considered himself a pussy, but this camping shit has him rethinking all that. He's cold and getting eaten alive by bugs and his back still hurts from sleeping on the ground last night. 

So yeah, he's being a bit of a baby. But whatever. He takes another sip of his beer, smiling at his brother as he goes off on one of his rants about something Ian has no interest in and barely understands anyway.  


He's spending the weekend at Starved Rock State Park with Lip, his older brother, and Billy, a friend of Lip's from college. Billy's an okay dude, kind of a nerd, but most of Lip's friends are anyway. Even since Lip went to college, he's been slowly separating himself from the south side and moving toward a new life. Ian's happy for him, even if he feels sometimes like he's losing his brother. 

That's the main reason Ian agreed to join Lip and Billy on this trip, to spend some rare quality time with his older brother. 

The past few years have been hard on Ian's relationship with his family, especially Lip.

Ian had a pretty rough time, not too long ago. Four years ago, when Ian was seventeen, he was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. It had been devastating, and Ian had gone off the deep end for a while there, refusing to accept his new reality.

He'd run away from home. He needed to get away from the prying eyes, and the imploring looks. He needed to be free of the constant second guessing and everyone always asking him if he was alright. He needed to be where no one knew him, or what he was like before. 

So he'd done the only thing that made sense. He'd called his mother, the only other person he knew that dealt with this particular diagnosis. At the time, in Ian's unstable brain, it seemed like the perfect solution to his problem. 

Unfortunately, it had ended with Ian strung out on drugs and turning tricks to help his mother keep her habit fed. He was always anxious and scared, certain the feds were following him, or aliens were monitoring his thoughts. He descended further and further down the rabbit hole, until he had no idea how to find his way back out. 

He'd lost his shit in spectacular fashion. He got the insane notion that one of the customers at the club he was stripping at was an undercover Fed, come to take Ian away. Ian had been committing all kinds of crimes to survive and help Monica, and he was always looking over his shoulder. Ian was sure his time was up, and he had to get out. He'd beat the shit out of the guy and ran, stealing a car out of the parking lot and leading the Chicago PD on a high speed chase that ended with Ian ramming the car into a telephone pole. He'd been arrested, and dumped in the nut ward for three months while his case was adjudicated. He was lucky that time, only receiving mandated therapy for his crimes. 

Even since then, Ian's done his best to stay on top of his diagnosis. He takes his meds, he goes to therapy, he keeps his rigid routine. It's tiresome, and he often gets frustrated, but it is what it is. He can't change a god damn thing, so he has to work with what he's got. 

"Hey man, you okay?" Lip's voice tears him out of his own head. Ian looks over, taking in the worried look in his brother's eyes. He nods, smiling. 

"Yeah, just tired." Ian replies, and it's mostly true. He's had a busy few months, working long hours at the diner he works at, saving up to get his own place. He loves his family and all, but Ian's twenty one now, and he needs to be on his own. 

Ian's family is all he really has, and they've leaned on each other for as long as Ian can remember, but he needs to know that he can do this on his own. That he can support himself, financially and emotionally. That he can be a functioning adult, bipolar bullshit or not. 

So he works at the diner at night, and takes some classes during the day, business administration. He'll probably end up some drone in a cubical, but it's better than dancing for crumpled dollar bills, or sucking dick to stay high. It's not a bad life, if you ask Ian. 

He's got no boyfriend at the moment. It's just not that important to him right now. When he feels so inclined, he makes the trip down to Boystown to find some twink to bend over for him. It's never hard to find a willing partner, and once he's gotten off, he just walks away. Clean and simple is how his life needs to be right now. There is no room for anything else. 

"Well, maybe if you relaxed like this more often, you wouldn't be so tired all the time, friend." Billy laughed. He picked up his guitar and started strumming it, smiling. 

"Yeah, I guess." Ian chuckled, taking another sip of his beer. He can't drink like he used to, so he enjoys what he can. Too much booze and he gets loopy quick, and really sick after. One of the many pleasures of the mountain of meds he needs to take daily now. 

"I'm glad you guys agreed to come with me." Billy confides. "It's hard to find city dwellers willing to put their phones down and sit under the stars." 

Ian laughs at that, nodding. The longer he sits out here, listening to Billy play, just shooting the shit with his brother and his friend, the lighter Ian feels. 

Maybe coming out here wasn't such a shitty idea after all....

They sit out there like that late into the night, just laughing and bullshitting. Billy plays his guitar, and Ian learns more about him and what he and Lip got into in college, and what it's like working at the tech firm they both work at now. Billy talks about his band, and how music is his real passion. Ian wishes he was passionate about something.

Ian tells them some horror stories from the diner. Shitty customers and funny food mishaps. They all laugh and joke, losing track of time as they just enjoy each other's company and the beautiful summer weather.  


The moon is full and bright and it takes up a huge part of the sky. Ian tips his head back, looking up into the black, star-filled expanse. You never see shit like this in the city. 

Something catches Ian's attention out of the corner of his eye. Something high up in the tree. Ian does a double take, turning in his chair. He could have sworn he saw something move. But the tree is tall, and Ian can't think of an animal in the area that could climb like that. Suddenly, Ian feels edgy and exposed, not unlike when he's having an anxiety attack. He feels like there are eyes on them. 

He takes a deep breath, willing himself to calm the fuck down. He doesn't want to have an episode out here, in the middle of what's supposed to be a good time. He takes another sip of his beer, mentally chastising himself for being a paranoid wacko when he hears a noise off to his left. 

His head whips away from the tree he was looking at and toward the woods on the other side. He's about to tell himself to calm the fuck down again, when Billy speaks. 

"Did you guys hear that?" he asks, turning toward the sound Ian thought was only in his head. Ian can feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. The feeling of being watched from the right is gone now, and the feeling of being stalked on the left is heavy in the air. He's never felt anything like it in his life. He stands up before he knows he's moving, backing away toward the tent. 

That's when he hears it. 

A growl. 

A low, thunderous, guttural sound. 

"What the fuck was that?" Lip whispers, moving to stand next to his brother. The boys back up until they hit a large tree trunk. Lip throws an arm in front of Ian, although Ian's not certain Lip could protect him from whatever beast made that noise. 

"It's probably a bobcat or something." Billy says, although his voice waivers. Ian hears a noise from the tree tops and looks up, but again sees nothing. Ian's legitimately scared now. He looks around frantically for some kind of weapon as Billy grabs the camp ax and starts walking toward the noise. 

"Bill, I don't think that's a good idea." Lip says, and Ian can hear the fear in his voice. Ian's only ever seen Lip scared a handful of times in his life, and it unsettles him. "What if it's rabid or something, man?" 

Ian nods, even though no one is looking at him. He bends down and grabs a fallen branch, holding it aloft, hoping he won't have to use it. 

He feels like a bit of a pussy in the moment. A city dwelling idiot that gets all wound up over a single growl. Scared by a noise and a strange feeling. But something is very wrong, and he's not the only one who feels that way, obviously. 

"I'm sure it's not rabid, Lip." Billy says. "We just gotta scare it off, and then we can get back to drinking, yeah? These animals have more to fear from us than we do from them." Billy says, and it sounds like he's trying to convince himself as well as the brothers. 

Billy takes a step forward, just as the clouds part and the moon shines down on the campsite. 

Ian gasps as the moonlight falls onto the creature as it steps out of the brush behind Billy. 

Holy fucking shit. 

It's a wolf. A big fucking wolf. Bigger than Ian's ever seen in print or on TV or in any movie. The animal is the size of a grizzly bear, with matted black fur and yellow eyes. It's got blood on it's fangs and gore in the fur around it's muzzle. 

"Oh my god." Ian chokes out, his back hitting the tree trunk as he desperately scrambles to get away. "Billy! Get the fuck away from there!" Ian screams. 

Billy turns toward the wolf, and when his eyes land on it, he screams. The loud, sharp noise shatters the quiet of the forest. The noise draws the attention of the beast and the animal's eyes land on Billy. Billy spins around fast, his hands flying as he scrambles to get away. He only makes it two steps before the creature pounces. 

Ian's eyes go wide and his mouth falls open in a silent scream as the wolf jumps on Billy's back, flattening the man face first into the dirt. Billy's cries are muffled as his face is shoved to the ground and his mouth filled with soil as he screamed. The wolf stood on Billy's back, it's claws shredding his shirt and tearing into the soft flesh below. The beast sank it's teeth into the meat of Billy's shoulder, ripping a huge chunk of muscle off and chomping it down with it's powerful jaw. Blood sprays from the wound, painting Billy's face and the rocks beneath him a gory red. 

It all happened so fast, but it felt like time was standing still. Tears streamed down Ian's face as he watched Billy flailing his arms weakly, digging his nails into the dirt, trying desperately to crawl away. The beast gave no quarter, abandoning Billy's back to sink it's teeth into his neck. Billy's struggling ceased, his body going limp under the onslaught. 

Billy's cries have tapered off into muted rumblings and garbled gurgling. His body twitches as a low moan slips past his bloodied lips. 

Ian's blood runs cold, and in that moment he would rather hear Billy wailing instead of the quiet cries he's emitting now. 

Ian's hit with the sick realization in that moment: he's watching a friend get eaten alive by a god damn hell beast of a rabid wolf. 

The animal is distracted by Billy, too busy consuming the moaning man to pay Ian and Lip any mind. 

Ian grabs Lip's shirt, pulling him toward the tree line. "Lip!" he whispers harshly. "We gotta get the fuck out of here." Ian's eyes are stuck on Billy, who is now laying motionless under the wolf as the animal continues to gnaw at his body. Blood is pooled all around his corpse, and every time the wolf moves, it leaves giant paw prints behind in Billy's blood. 

"Get the fuck off him!" Lip screams, finally snapping out of his daze. He rips the stick out of Ian's hand, waving it above his head wildly. Ian watches, slack-jawed and terrified as his brother charges the animal with nothing in his hand but the branch Ian had been clutching. 

"Lip! No!" Ian screams, running toward his brother. He needs to get to him first. He needs to pull him back, he needs to protect him, get them both back to the car so they can call the cops. Fucking animal control. Someone with a gun big enough to kill that fucking thing. 

Ian is horrified when Lip raises the branch and starts beating the wolf on the back with it. It looks ridiculous, Lip hitting this giant, monstrous animal with what amounts to a damn twig. It would be comical if Ian wasn't so horror-struck. 

The wolf abandons Billy's body and rounds on Lip and Ian. It lashes out with it's paw, slashing Lip right across his chest. Lip stumbles backwards, his hand automatically moving to his wound. His fingers press against the cuts, and he hisses as blood seeps through his fingers. 

"Fuck." Lip says, turning to Ian. "Run." Lips moves to run, but the wolf clamps down hard on his forearm. The animal shakes it's head back and forth vigorously, like it's trying to break Lip's arm off his body. 

Ian screams as his brother is tossed around like a rag doll. Lip is bleeding badly now, screaming bloody murder, hitting the wolf in the face with a closed fist as he struggles to stay upright. Ian runs over, his chest heaving in fear as he grabs up Billy's abandoned camp ax and runs toward his brother. 

"Ian, fucking run." Lip cries out as he collapses to the ground in pain. The wolf moves with him, releasing his arm in an attempt to get at his throat. The beast's mouth is so wide, it's fangs glistening with Billy and Lip's combined blood. Ian's never been so terrified in his life. 

"Get off him!" Ian screams, burying the ax in the wolf's back. Ian watches, aghast, as black blood seeps from the wound and the wolf howls in pain, finally releasing Lip and stumbling over sideways toward the brush. Ian rushes over to his brother, throwing Lip's good arm over his shoulder and staggering off toward the car, as fast as he can carrying all his brother's dead weight. 

He can hear the animal wailing in pain the whole way back to the car, but he doesn't dare look back. He's certain the creature is right behind them, ready to finish the job, eat them both. Ian can't let that happen, he won't fucking let that happen. 

They get to the car and Ian digs around in Lip's pocket for the keys. 

"Lip! Lip, where are the keys?" Ian asks, his whole body trembling in fear. 

"It's Billy's car, Ian. Why would I have the keys?" Lip whimpers, blood dripping from his mouth. "I'm gonna die here." 

"No!" Ian spits. "No you're fucking not." he lays his brother on the ground as gently as he can. He leans Lip up against the side panel of the car. "I'm going to go back and get the keys. And a phone. I'm gonna call 911, and we're gonna get you some help, okay?" he runs a hand through Lip's hair, grimacing at all the blood. Where is his head bleeding? "Don't go anywhere." Ian says, although it's clear Lip is incapable of moving, even if he wanted to. 

"Don't go, Ian." Lip sputters. "It's not safe." 

"I can't just let you bleed out, Lip." Ian replies fiercely. "I'm gonna fix it, don't worry." and with that Ian's off again, running toward certain danger and possible death. 

He comes upon the camping spot, and nervously whips his head around looking for the wolf. The camp site is eerily quiet. The beast is gone. The spot where it lay when they ran off is empty, save for a pool of dark blood and a set of odd-shaped drag marks. Billy's body hasn't moved, but Ian notices an odd set of foot prints in the dirt around his body. Those shoes don't belong to anyone on this trip. 

Ian's head whips around quickly. That feeling of being watched is back and much stronger than it was before. 

"Hello?" he says quietly. "Who's there?" 

Of course, he hears nothing. 

He shakes his head, diving toward the tent. He grabs Billy's keys and both his and Lip's phones and stumbles out of the tent. He gets twisted up in the fabric and goes crashing to the ground, groaning in pain as he rolls onto his back. 

"Fucking hell." he mutters, rolling to his hands and knees and struggling to his feet. He runs the short distance back to the car, jumping into the driver's seat and starting the car. 

"You okay?" Lip asks as Ian floors it, driving wildly down the dark dirt road, trying to put as much distance between them and the campsite as possible. 

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Ian asked. He pulled out his phone, dialing and putting it on speaker as he maneuvered the dark road as best he could. 

"LaSalle County Sheriff's Department." the woman on the other end says. 

"My brother and friend have been attacked by some crazy animal. Wolf, I think. Huge. At Starved Rock Park. Billy's dead, my brother's hurt real bad. Please help us." Ian stammers, still unable to grasp the reality of the situation, even as he speaks. 

The women starts rattling off instructions. Telling Ian to pull the car over at the entrance to the park and wait for the police and EMS there, and to put pressure on Lip's wound. Ian doesn't want to park the car. That thing could be anywhere. They obviously didn't kill it. It's probably watching them right now, waiting for the right moment to attack and end them both. 

But Lip is close to passing out, so fucking pale, bleeding all over the place. Ian knows he has to stay put, so the paramedics can find them and save his brother. 

So Ian swallows his own fear, locking the car doors and waiting, as instructed. He leans over in his seat, putting pressure on his brother's gaping wounds with both hands, like the woman said. The dispatcher stays on the line, talking Ian and Lip through the charged moment as they wait for EMS. He waits and he waits and finally after what feels like forever, the ambulance pulls up with the police.  
Ian unlocks the door and the EMTs take his brother out of the car carefully. They lift Lip up and put him on a gurney and take him away. 

Ian watches, fear overwhelming him as his brother is taken away in the speeding ambulance. 

"Can't we go with them?" Ian asks an officer, his eyes glued to the disappearing vehicle. 

"We just need some information first." The cop says. Ian fidgets, afraid for his brother and anxious to be near him. 

"Can I at least call my sister? So she can go be with him until we're done here?" 

The cop nods, and after Ian calls Fiona and fills her in, Ian leads the police back to that nightmare of a campsite. 

Billy's body is there, half eaten and mutilated. There is blood everywhere, like Ian had said. The wolf is still gone, not that Ian thought it would magically reappear. 

One thing that confuses Ian, however, is the fact that the footprints he saw before around Billy's body have disappeared. The area where the wolf had laid has been smoothed over, and the drag marks have vanished. 

Ian has a frightful moment where he wonders if he imagined all that shit. This whole ordeal would be the perfect opportunity for his fucked up brain to really do a number on him. 

So he keeps his mouth shut. He doesn't tell the cops about the random footprints or the disappearing drag marks. 

Instead, he tells the cops all he can remember about the attack. Every gory, awful detail. When he's finished rehashing the whole horrific incident, he's exhausted. He just wants his family. 

He waits by the cruiser, hands stuffed in his pockets, head hanging down, eyes fixed on the grass beneath his feet. He counts his breaths to keep his mind occupied, so his brain doesn't relive the events of the night again and again. 

He can hear the cops talking by the crime scene. He hears them tossing around the word 'rabid' and 'euthanize' - like they'd be able to kill that thing. Ian would scoff if he had the energy. 

Ian's not convinced that animal was rabid anyway. It was too controlled, almost like it knew exactly what it was doing. Like a cognizant being. 

Ian shakes his head at his own stupidity. That creature was not 'thinking' anything. It was an out of control monster that killed his friend and injured his brother severely. He hopes it's somewhere out there dying right now. 

"Can someone please take me to the hospital now?" Ian asks tiredly. "I really want to be with my family." 

One of the cops nods, opening the cruiser's back door so Ian can slide in. 

Ian turns away as the coroner drops a white sheet over Billy's battered body. He doesn't look back once the cruiser starts down the dirt road. 

He's so lost in thought, he does not notice the figure in the shadows, watching him from the tree line along the side of the road. But he does get that same strange feeling of being watched. He shivers, curling further in on himself. 

He just wants his family. 

 

***

 

Billy's funeral is on a Sunday. Ian stares at himself in the mirror, fidgeting with his tie. 

"Leave it." his brother says. Ian turns, giving Lip a small smile. He nods, letting his hands fall to his sides. 

"How are you feeling?" Ian asks. Lip shrugs, tugging on his shirt cuffs.

"Still a little nauseous, but nothing I can't handle." 

Lip had been released from the hospital a few days after the incident. Ian thought he should still be in there, but Lip was adamant he was okay, and the hospital staff apparently agreed with him. 

Lip had several long cuts from the wolf's claws, which had required a multitude of stitches, as well as countless bite marks, puncture wounds and abrasions. But nothing life threatening. The doctors had put him on antibiotics, and run some tests for shit like rabies, and once all that was clear, they had released him to his family. 

Ian and Fiona were supposed to be watching for shit like swelling around the wound sites and fever. So far, so good. 

Ian still wasn't sure it was a good idea for Lip to go to Billy's funeral, but Lip wouldn't be deterred. They'd been friends for years, he couldn't miss it. He wouldn't miss it. 

So Ian said he'd tag along. Keep his brother company, and keep an eye on him for Fiona's benefit. 

"You guys ready? I started my car for you." Fiona's voice floated up the steps, causing the brothers to turn toward the door.

"You ready for this?" Ian asked, laying a gentle hand on Lip's uninjured shoulder. 

"Yeah, I'm good." his brother nodded, moving to leave the room. 

Ian's not sure how 'good' his brother really is, but he does know that he's gonna stay close by him until he's sure Lip's okay again. It's what they do. They take care of each other. 

 

***

 

The funeral is a quiet affair. But then again, when is a funeral not? Ian sits in the back with his brother, who is coughing quietly. Ian listens to the sermon, internally freaking out. Is this what the doctors warned about? Is Lip getting sick from his wounds? 

Ian shoots his brother a worried look, but Lip just waves him off. Soon the memorial is over and they are shuffling out of the church and into Fiona's car so they can follow the procession to the cemetery. Ian wants to drive, but his brother is a stubborn prick. Ian watches him warily as he winces behind the wheel. 

About halfway there, Ian looks up and sees a black Escalade behind them. It's not part of the procession, because Ian would remember a car like that. He shrugs it off, sinking down in the seat as his brother pilots them to the graveyard. 

Ian's been to a few funerals, but none like this. Billy was young, and he died in a horrific, strange manner. This was not a normal funeral. He had not lived a full life, he did not die peacefully in his sleep.  


The whole time they are lowering Billy into the ground, all Ian can hear is Billy's blood curdling screams. All he can see is that beast tearing chunks of muscle out of his back. All he can smell is the coppery tang of blood in the air. 

"I need a minute." Ian whispers to his brother, walking off toward their car without another word. 

He leans up against the car, smoking a cigarette. He closes his eyes, trying to push away the images that have been invading his thoughts more and more. 

A chill goes down Ian's spine and his eyes snap open. He's being watched. Again. He can feel eyes on him. 

Ian's been getting this feeling more and more since that night in the woods. Part of him wants to believe it's his mind playing tricks on him. This is the first time in Ian's life he's ever WANTED his bipolar to give him hallucinations. Because the alternative is much scarier. That would mean that someone or something has been out there, stalking him since Billy's death. 

Ian looks around. It's the middle of the day, and there are people milling about all around the cemetery. The graveyard is in the middle of a busy neighborhood, so even if Ian was being watched, he wouldn't know the first thing about singling out his stalker. A strong sense of panic overwhelms him as his eyes fall on a black Escalade parked across the street. The windows are tinted, so Ian can't tell if anyone is inside, and he's too far to read the license plate, but Ian would bet anything that the Escalade parked across the street is the same one Ian saw on the way to the cemetery. 

Ian swallows hard, taking another drag of his cigarette as he does his best to keep his fucking cool. 

That feeling of being watched is so strong now, Ian almost feels like he has to throw up. His head whips around fast, trying to catch someone staring, but of course no one is there. Ian runs a hand through his hair, bringing his cigarette back to his lips with shaky fingers. 

"Calm the fuck down, Ian." he whispers harshly to himself. "There's no one watching you. That car is empty and this is all a stupid coincidence. Watching Billy die freaked you out. You just need a minute." he takes a deep breath to calm himself, before taking another long drag off his cigarette. 

He decides it may be a good idea to call his therapist. Anne has been there for him since his diagnosis, and she's been concerned for him after hearing about Billy's death. Ian is starting to think Anne has a reason to worry, and promises himself that he'll call her when he gets home from the funeral. 

Just as Ian finishes his cigarette, Lip and the rest of the attendants start to wander out of the cemetery and toward their cars. 

Ian watches as Lip hugs Billy's mom and makes his way over to him. Ian gives his brother a small smile. "Want me to drive?" 

Lip nods minutely, opening the door and sliding into the passenger seat without a word. Ian decided to keep his thoughts about being followed and the Escalade to himself. Not only would it make him look crazy, but Lip's had a long day, and he's still not quite back to full health. 

So Ian keeps his mouth shut as he drives them away from the funeral and back towards the south side. He keeps his mouth shut, even as his eyes find the Escalade in the rear view no matter how many turns he takes. 

Ian's not sure if he's imagining it or not. He can't really trust his own mind, a lot of the time. And with all the chaos going on right now with Billy's death and Lip's injuries, Ian's half certain that he's making up this Escalade tale in his head. 

So he stays quiet. He parks in front of the house and waits for his brother to climb out of the car. Lip's movements are slow, and it's clear that he's in pain. But Ian doesn't offer to help, because he knows how much that would piss his brother off. 

He watches with sad eyes as Lip stumbles up the steps, clutching his ribs where his stitches pull at him. 

Ian is so focused on his brother, ready to grab him at a moments notice, that he doesn't see the man watching him across the street. He looks just like any other man in the neighborhood, smoking a cigarette casually, back resting on the chain link behind him. 

So no one says a word on the street, no matter how long he stands there, leaning up against the fence, his face turned up to the second floor window of the Gallagher house. The lights are on, and anyone walking by could easily see the two young men occupying the room. 

The stranger stands on the sidewalk for quite some time, only slipping back into his own car once a black Escalade rolls up. The truck parks in front of the Gallagher house for a moment, and the man from the street waits in his black Impala. 

After about an hour, the Escalade pulls away. The Impala waits a moment before pulling out as well, following behind the truck, leaving obvious distance between them. 

All the while, Ian's upstairs in his room, watching his brother toss back pain pills as he shakes through a new fever. He is worried about Lip, that much is clear, but underneath that concern is that same strange feeling. 

Someone's watching him.

His eyes flit over to the window, but he doesn't get up to look. He's not going to give into his delusions. He's not going to succumb to his disorder. 

 

***

 

A month passes, and Lip does not improve. He seems to be getting sicker and sicker, but he refuses to go back to the emergency room. 

Ian has just come back from a shift at the diner. He called out when he enters the house, but no one seemed to be home, at least not downstairs. 

Ian wandered into the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a beer and a tupperware full of left over spaghetti. He tossed the food in the microwave and uncapped the beer, taking a long pull off the bottle as he watched his dinner spin and reheat. 

The microwave beeps and Ian pulls his dinner from it, hissing as some hot steam burns his fingers. He sits at the table, setting his food and beer down and picking up a note that is laying on the table. He reads is quickly, recognizing his older sister's scrawl immediately. 

 

Ian,  
Lip is not doing well. If his fever gets past 102, bring him to the clinic. I am with the kids at Debbie's science fair. If anything goes wrong, call me asap.  
Fiona

 

Ian rolls his eyes. He doesn't need Fiona holding his hand like this. Ian knows what to do if Lip's fever gets too high. He's not an idiot. 

He finishes his dinner in record time, washing it all down with his beer before dropping the container in the sink and bounding up the stairs. 

"Lip? You up here?" he asks redundantly. Where else would he be? 

He finds his brother in bed, looking the worst he's looked since the attack. Lip is in a pair of old sweats, topless, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. The sheets beneath his body are soaked, and his skin is flushed. His wounds are swollen, looking painful and infected. 

"Jesus, Lip." Ian sighs, dropping down to sit next to his brother on the bed. "We gotta get you to the clinic. You're getting worse." 

"No." Lip replies hoarsely. "We don't have money for that shit. It's a stupid little fever, I'm fine." 

"Lip, you've been getting worse all month. I don't think this is going to go away on it's own." Ian said, desperation bleeding into his voice. "I'm scared for you." 

Lip shuffles over so he can lay his hand over Ian's, which is clenched into a fist on the bed. Ian suppressed a shudder. His brother's hand is so cold and clammy, Ian's fear multiply dramatically. "I promise, everything's gonna be fine." 

Ian sighs, nodding sadly. His brother is stubborn as fuck. Ian contemplates waiting for him to pass out and calling 911, but Lip's right, they really can't afford it. The bill from his last trip to the hospital had been staggering. 

They sit like that on the bed for a while. Ian smokes cigarettes, watching his brother sleep fitfully. He sighs again, craning his neck from side to side until a satisfying pop cracks out of his spine, relieving some of his tension there. 

Ian's eyes travel outside, to the giant full moon hanging low in the sky. You never see stars in the city, but the moon is always visible. 

Ian's mind is almost drawn back to the last time he saw the moon that big. To the forest, covered in blood. To the beast that tore his friend limb from limb. That is until his eyes are drawn out the window. There is a car parked there, headlights off. Ian squints, getting up on his knees so he can see better. He rests his head against the window, straining to see. It's a truck, or SUV. 

Ian's heartbeat quickens, suddenly sure the Escalade is back. He can't run, not with Lip this sick. Ian's eyes fly over the room, looking for some kind of weapon. 

Just as he about to dive off the bed and go looking for the house bat, he hears an engine start. His eyes dart back to the window and he watches the truck drive away. 

Ian lets out a relieved breath, once again feeling like a paranoid nutcase. 

Anne is gonna have a heart attack when Ian tells her all this shit. 

Ian's internal revelry is interrupted, very suddenly. 

Lip sits up in bed, fast, gasping for breath. His eyes dart around the room wildly before landing on his brother. 

"Ian." he breathes, terror in his eyes. "I can't fucking breathe." he gasps."I gotta go." 

Ian watches in horror as his brother jumps from the bed and bolts down the stairs. Ian scrambles after him, his heart in his throat as he flies down the stairs after Lip. For a guy that's been too sick to move for the past two weeks, he's really got some speed now. Ian stumbles down the last couple steps and is even more freaked out when he finds the door wide open. He throws his shoes on and takes off down the steps, barely remembering to shut the door as his head whips one way and the other, searching the street for his brother. He catches a glimpse of Lip about a half a block away, the hoodie he threw on unzipped and flying behind him like a cape as he races down the street. Ian takes off after him as fast as his feet will carry him.

"Lip! Fucking stop!" Ian screamed. He was full on sprinting now. How the fuck is Lip moving this fast? Ian is the runner in the family, and Lip's been sicker than shit for the past month. 

Ian doesn't have time to think about any of that, however, because suddenly there's a truck driving right behind him. Ian can hear the engine roaring at his back, can hear the tires whirling just behind his ankles.  


Ian can't turn, because he's afraid he'll lose sight of his brother, but he doesn't have to look to know it's the fucking Escalade again. 

What the fuck is going on? Is this Ian's life now? Random, violent attacks in the woods, and clandestine stalkers in luxury vehicles?

He'd laugh if he wasn't so scared. 

Suddenly, Lip takes a sharp left, darting into an alleyway. Ian turns with him, looking behind him to see the SUV screeching to a halt at the mouth of the alley. He turns away just as he hears footsteps clamoring after them. 

Fuck, they're going to get caught. 

He doesn't know this area, and he's got no way out. How is he supposed to lose this guy? Is he going to have to fight his way out? Can Lip fight right now, weakened as he is? What the fuck does this guy want with Ian and Lip? 

All these questions run through Ian's mind in rapid-fire succession as he darts down the alley after his brother, turning a corner as they put some distance between them and their pursuer. Just as he's about to turn around and throw a punch to buy his brother some time to get away, a door flies open on their left and Lip is dragged inside by a gloved hand. 

Oh fuck. What now? 

Ian whips his head back, he can hear whoever is chasing them bolting down the alley, but they haven't caught up yet. Ian dives into the open doorway behind his brother and slamming the door shut behind him, not even thinking to worry about the identity of whoever dragged Lip into the darkened room, or if they could be with the man in the Escalade. 

That seems like an oversight to Ian, the moment he realizes he's now trapped in a room with his sick brother, and some elusive stranger. 

Good going, Ian.

Ian's head whips around the dimly lit room. They are in some kind of abandoned store, in the back room. There are empty shelving units everywhere, dented cans of expired food, and busted open bags of moldy rice littering the floor. 

In the corner of the room is his brother, being held to the floor by a man. He's dressed in black, with black hair and skin so pale it almost glows. 

"Get the fuck off him!" Ian yells, running over to pull the man off. Ian grabs the man's shoulder, trying to rip him off Lip, but the man barely budges at all. Ian puts all his weight into pushing the man of his sick brother, but it's like pushing against a brick wall. 

Jesus, he must be strong. 

"Stop." Ian screams. "Don't hurt him, He's sick." Ian throws a punch, hitting the stranger square in middle of his back. Now, Ian can throw a punch. He's dropped guys twice his size with a well placed punch like that. But this guy doesn't even flinch. 

Ian hisses, pulling his hand back, cradling his sore knuckles. 

Fuck, that hurt. 

The man does not, in fact, release Lip, but he does pivot where he's crouched to peer over at Ian. 

The man's got this calm look on his face, like he's not in the middle of an assault. He looks like he's got everything under control. The look frightens Ian, and he takes a step back. 

"Don't hurt him. Please." Ian repeats. His voice is so low and soft, he barely recognizes it himself. 

"I'm not going to hurt him." the man says, yet he's still gripping Lip's shirt tightly, holding him up off the floor with one hand. Lip just dangles there, his head lolling back as the adrenaline from the chase wears off and his sickness returns. "I want to help." 

"Help?" Ian echos. "How?"

The man lets Lip go, and he falls to the floor in a crumpled heap. Ian drops to his knees, cradling Lip's head against his chest as he looks up at his curious savior. 

"I know what's going on with you. I know why your brother is sick. I want to help him." the man says, eyes traveling from Ian to Lip. "Also, I know who is following you." the man said, locking eyes with Ian. 

Ian stared back at the stranger in disbelief. What the hell is this guy talking about? Ian just looks at him, before his eyes dart down to Lip, then back up to the man. The man has this intense look on his face, his eyes boring into Ian's. It's like he is looking right through him. 

"Listen," the man says, taking a step closer to Ian. "I want to help. You can trust me. I am not going to hurt you, and I am not with the man hunting you. My name's Mickey. I'm a friend." 

Ian suddenly feels a wave of calm wash over him. It almost feels like taking a sedative, but warmer. He looks into this man's eyes, and he believes him. He believes him and he trusts him and he wants to listen. It's a strange feeling, but Ian has no desire to fight it. 

The man, Mickey, turns to Lip and gives him the same speech. "I want to help you feel better. I want to help you both. Will you please come with me, so I can do that?" 

Lip nods, looking over to Ian with a strange, placid look on his face. Ian stands, coming face to face with Mickey, before looking down at his brother. 

"Help me lift him." Ian says to Mickey, while Lip reaches his hands out so each man can take one, lifting him to his feet. 

"C'mon, I have a car around back. I think we lost the tail for now." Mickey says. Ian and Lip follow him without question. Ian can see no other plan of action in the moment, and he trusts this man for whatever reason. 

Mickey leads them to a black Impala. Ian does a double take, because he's seen that car around the neighborhood. He stops walking, looking over at Mickey. 

"Have you been following me?" he asks, tightening his grip on his brother as he tries to pull Lip away from Mickey. 

"I'll explain everything once we get going." Mickey replies, looking into Ian's eyes again. He's so earnest, Ian believes him right away. He nods, taking Lip's full weight as Mickey unlocks the car and opens the back door. "We can put him in the backseat." he grips Lip's middle and he and Ian guide him to lie down. Once Lip is as comfortable as he can be, Ian slides into the front seat as Mickey gets behind the wheel. 

He starts the car and soon they are speeding through the Chicago streets, heading for the city limits. 

It doesn't even occur to Ian to be frightened. 

 

***

 

Mickey pulls into a parking lot of an all night drive through coffee shop. He orders Ian and Lip both a coffee, but gets nothing for himself. The brothers sit in the parked car, sipping their coffees, waiting for Mickey to start explaining shit. 

But he doesn't. He just lets them drink their coffees and smoke some cigarettes. Finally, after they have both calmed down a little and they are breathing a bit easier, Mickey turns to Ian.

"Okay, listen. This is going to sound really fucked up, but you should hear me out before making any assumptions, okay?" 

Ian nods. Mickey turns to face Lip, who also gives him a tired nod. 

"Alright, so...."Mickey starts, his hands toying with the steering wheel. "I know what happened at Starved Rock Park." 

"What?" Ian asks, instinctively looking toward his brother before setting his eyes back on Mickey. 

"When your friend got mauled. Bobby Winston." Mickey replied calmly. 

That got Ian's attention. "How do you know about that?" 

"That's not important right now." Mickey replies steadily. He keeps his eyes locked with Ian's. "The important thing is that I know what did it." 

"Yeah." Lip pipes up from the back seat. "It was a wolf." 

"Not just any wolf." Mickey replies cryptically. "It was a werewolf." 

Ian's eyes widen. He opens his mouth to speak, but Lip cuts him off. 

"Oh fuck off." he spat. "What is this? Halloween? Who are you? We don't have time for this fairy tale bullshit. I'm sick and someone is trying to kill us. Can we not with the stupid stories right now?" 

"I know." Mickey replies calmly. "But please, hear me out. You were attacked on the full moon. The next full moon is in two hours. You need to be somewhere safe for when the turn happens." 

"Turn?" Ian asks, his voice just above a whisper. This can't be real. This can't be happening. 

"Yeah." Mickey nods, his hands running up and down the steering wheel. He makes eye contact with Lip in the rear view mirror. "You're infected now, unfortunately." 

"Infected?" Lip repeats hollowly. "Like a werewolf?" Lip is silent for a moment, as if contemplating what Mickey said, before scoffing rudely. "Get fucking real." 

"Let's see." Mickey says, turning in his seat to stare at Lip. "You were attacked by a wolf during the full moon. You were mauled, but you made a speedy recovery. So speedy, in fact, the doctors were professionally confounded. You have no infections or permanent damage, but you can't seem to kick the fever you have or this strange set of flu-like symptoms. Can't get out of bed, sweating up a storm, puking your guts out. Then tonight, out of nowhere, you suddenly get this rush of energy, and the desperate desire to run. The need to get out, to go. But you don't know where to. Sound familiar?" 

Lip sat up slowly, his eyes wide and full of fear. He locked eyes with Ian, who was equally unnerved. 

"This is bullshit." Lip repeats, falling heavily on his back again. "There is no such thing as werewolves. What is this, a B movie? Who are you?" 

"Someone who knows about this shit." Mickey replied sharply. He doesn't have time for this shit. He's trying to help.

Mickey's not sure why he's so bent on helping these two. He came upon them by accident while taking a late night walk in the forest last month, something he does from time to time to clear his mind. 

He was drawn to the campsite by some force he's never felt before. But over the course of Mickey's long and interesting life, he's learned to follow his instincts. It's kept him in one piece and helped him out of more than one sticky situation. So when he was drawn to the campsite, he knew it had to be for a reason. 

"Alright, listen." Mickey starts. He isn't sure telling the truth is the best option, but if it goes south, he can always wipe their memories later. "I was in the woods that night. I go there sometimes to clear my head, when things get on top of me. I was wandering around near your campsite when I heard the wolf attack you." 

He watched Ian's face carefully as he told the next part of the story. "I got there too late to help your friend, I only came upon you as you were trying to drive off. The wolf wasn't dead yet, so once you were distracted, I broke the beast's neck and dragged it off into the brush. Once you got in the car, I followed you until the ambulance came." Mickey cleared his throat, glancing up at Ian quickly. "Once your brother was released from the hospital, I followed you home." he leaves out the details of how he really found them. Not important right now. "I noticed the Escalade following you. I'm familiar with that car, and the type of men who drive it. I knew you were in trouble, so I waited for Lip here to feel the start of the turn, and made sure I got to you before they could." 

"Okay." Ian said quietly. He was so confused and overwhelmed right now. He glanced at his brother in the back seat, who was laying down with a hand thrown over his face. 

Ian thought back to that night in the forest. How he went back to get the keys off of Billy's body and the wolf had just been gone. The drag marks he saw in the dirt. The footprints that disappeared before the police arrived. That strange feeling he's had for ages now of being watched and followed. 

All the pieces clicked into place. Ian looked up at Mickey, who was staring back at him. 

"You've been following me." he whispered, feeling relieved and angry at the same time. He wasn't losing his shit, that was good. But this strange man with some kind of supernatural knowledge of murderous beasts was following him, for a month now. 

How do you make sense of any of this shit? 

Mickey looks away. How can he explain this shit without making it even worse? "Yeah, I have. You guys aren't safe. The people who drive those fucking Escalades are not your friends. They hunt people like us." 

"Like us?" Lip asks from the back seat, he moves to sit up, but Ian gives him a quelling glare and he falls back against the seat. "Are you a lil' wolfy too?" he laughs tiredly. 

"Not exactly." Mickey murmurs. "Let's finish this conversation back at my house. You guys don't mind going for a bit of a drive, do you? I sort of live out of the way." 

"You're not going to kill us, are you?" Ian asks, still a little confused as to why he's not more afraid of this man. 

Ian's life has turned into and endless series of bizarre and frightening events. Why not add this to the list? 

"If I wanted to kill you, you'd be long dead." Mickey replies coolly. "So, shall we?" 

Ian looks at his brother, who just shrugs. "What do we have to lose at this point? Besides, we can't really go back home, and bring all this heat on the rest of the family." 

Ian nods, his mind going to his sisters and brothers. He doesn't want anything bad to happen to them because of the shit he and Lip are caught up in. 

"Yeah," Ian nods. "Okay. Let's go." 

Mickey suppresses a smile. He has no idea what's going on with him, but he's going to continue to follow his intuition on this. Ever since his change, it has never steered him wrong. 

He throws the car in drive and peels out of the parking lot. It's quite a ways to his house, and he'd like to get this conversation over as soon as possible. They have a lot of shit to figure out before they can make their next move. 

 

***

 

An hour later, they pull up to a long winding driveway, out in the woods somewhere. Ian's eyes take in the long fence running along the driveway, the massive trees on either side of the dirt road. 

Once they get to the end of the drive way, Ian is surprised to find a huge house. Like, a huge house you'd see in the movies or something. It's not what you'd expect to find out in the middle of nowhere like this. 

Mickey cuts the engine and climbs out of the car. Ian is reluctant to follow, unsure how he let himself get talked into allowing this strange man to take him and his very sick brother to his house, which just happens to be situated in the middle of god damn nowhere. 

This is how every horror movie ever starts. 

But Lip is still groaning in the back seat, his affliction coming back in full force the later the hour gets. Ian has to do something to help him. Ian's still not a hundred percent sure he believes all the shit Mickey's been selling since they came across him in that alley, but Lip is getting worse, and they need a place to lay low, away from the family home, until they can come up with a game plan for how to deal with the stalker in the Escalade. 

So Ian takes a deep breath, steadying himself, before opening the Impala's door and stepping out. He turns to help his brother out of the back seat, but Mickey has already gotten Lip to his feet and is leading him up the long winding walkway that forks off the cobblestone driveway. 

Ian hurries to catch up to them, so he can help Mickey drag his brother inside, but the smaller man doesn't seem to need any assistance with Lip's bigger form. Mickey leads Lip to the door easily, Ian trailing behind them, watching the entire scene with his mouth hanging open.

Who is this guy?

Just as they get to the door, it swings open, and standing in the entryway is a woman. A gorgeous young woman in a flowing blue dress. She's got jet black hair just like Mickey's and matching ice blue eyes and porcelain white skin. Her eyes widen as she takes in the display before her. Then her lips curl into a slow smile and she steps aside so Mickey can drag Lip into the house.

"Bringing home strays now?" the woman says, and Ian can hear the teasing tone of her voice quite clearly. She follows Mickey as he drags Lip deeper into the house. Ian follows close behind, his eyes taking in the immense interior. 

Ian was right earlier, when he thought he was going to end up in one of those houses in the horror flicks. This place would make the perfect haunted house in one of those cheesy B movies. The walls are paneled in dark wood, and there are large oil paintings hanging along the walls in the hallway. The doorways are arched and have intricately carved wood doors with large brass knobs. Ian's eyes widen as he takes in the hardwood floors and hand carved antique furniture. 

Ian wonders for the hundredth time that night what he's gotten himself into. He's following two strangers down the hall of a country mansion filled with antique treasures, in the hopes that they can cure his brother of his 'Werewolf Infection'. 

Ian's lost his mind. This is all one long-running delusion. It has to be. 

He follows the others into a room, and his jaw promptly hits the floor. 

He's entered some kind of great room. The far wall is lined with floor length windows, giving the room a sweeping view of the massive wooded area behind the house. Ian's mind automatically goes to the night at the campsite, and he turns away from the windows to take in the rest of the room. 

The walls are lined with more dark wood, panels stained a deep ebony color that gives Ian the feel of being inside a cave. There is a huge stone fireplace nestled into the corner of the room, the mantle taking up a large portion of the wall. There are random art pieces lining the mantle as well as old framed photos. Before Ian can step up to get a closer look, he hears his brother groan from the other side of the room. He tears his eyes away from the mantle and speeds across the floor to get to his brother, who is laying on a large sofa in the middle of the room. His brother is spread out on the massive piece of furniture, with his feet dangling off the end. 

"Put your feet up." the woman says, smiling. "Don't worry about making a mess. This furniture is older than dirt."

"Thank you." Lips sighs, relenting and putting his feet up on the couch cushions. Ian can see the reliefs in his brother's eyes as he finally stretches out his sore body. "What a crazy night." 

"Speaking of crazy, are you going to enlighten us as to what is going on now?" Ian asks, kneeling down on the floor so he can be eye level with his brother who's still laying prone on the couch. He reaches out and lays a hand over Lip's clenched fist. His brother pulls away, rolling his eyes. 

"Relax, for christ's sake. I'm not dying, Ian." he grouses, before setting his sight on the other two people in the room, who are standing next to each other watching the brothers with twin curious expressions on their faces. "But he's right, can someone please tell me what's happening here? Preferably before I either turn into a hell hound or get killed by masked assassins?" 

The girl whirls on Mickey with fire in her eyes. "Mickey! What the hell? Who are these people? Is he a dog??" 

"Mandy, calm the fuck down." Mickey sighs, walking over to the chair by the couch and sitting down on Ian's other side. The close proximity makes Ian's whole body stiffen. Mickey smells amazing, and he radiates this odd kind of warmth that draws Ian in. It's not a physical heat, but more like an aura, even though Ian would usually say that kind of thing is bullshit. He's so consumed in the feeling, he jumps a little when Mickey speaks again. "Mandy, this is Philip and Ian Gallagher. Gallagher brothers, this is my sister Mandy. We live here with our brother Iggy, who seems to be out at the moment." 

"He's hunting." Mandy supplies cryptically before gliding across the room, stopping in front of Ian. He has to crane his neck to look into her eyes from his spot at her feet. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." she purrs, extending her hand to Ian. Ian takes it cautiously, moving to shake it, but Mandy pulls hard, lifting Ian right off the floor and into her face. 

What is it with this family and the strength? 

"Uh, likewise?" Ian stammers, giving Mandy a sheepish grin as she runs her hand up and down his arm slowly. 

"Oooh," Mandy purrs, turning to face her brother. "I like this one. I may be inclined to keep him." 

"Fuck off with that shit, Mandy, he's not a pet." Mickey sighs. 

Ian would swear on anything he heard Mandy grumble "He could be." under her breath, but it was said so lowly, he can't be certain. And what kind of sense would that make? Ian shakes his head, taking a step back and sitting back down on the floor next to his brother. 

"You never let me have any fun." Mandy groans, stomping back across the room and dropping into an overstuffed chair by the fireplace. "Well, get on with it then. Spill all our secrets to this strange ginger and his half breed brother." 

Her words make Lip scoff, but he doesn't bother with an actual retort. 

"Wait." Ian sits up straighter, crossing his arms over his bent knees. "How much do you know about us exactly?" Ian asks, looking from Lip's confused face back to the siblings. 

"We know enough to know you need our help." Mickey replied in that same cool, cryptic tone he seems so fond of. 

"Yeah, that's not going to work." Lip replies, struggling to sit up on the couch. Ian moves to help him, but Lip bats him away furiously. "You need to fucking level with us, or we're walking the fuck back to Chicago right now." 

Mickey actually laughs at that. Like, full on breaks down cackling. Ian's eyes harden, his lips drawing into a thin line. 

"What's so fucking funny?" he barks, pretty close to fed up with this vague cloak and dagger bullshit. 

"It's just kind of amusing that your brother here thinks he's in any condition to hoof it back to the city. We are over an hour away, and less than two hours away from the full moon. He'll be a drooling beast before he gets to the main road." 

Lip looks at Ian, utterly horrified. In that moment, Ian realizes, whatever's happening now, he probably needs the help of these strange siblings, no matter how off-putting they are. 

Mickey must sense Lip's unease, because his face softens, and he drops down on the floor next to Ian, waving his sister over to join them. Mandy gives an irritated huff at having to sit on the floor, but does as Mickey asks, tucking her feet under her thighs and clasping her hands together in her lap. 

"Okay," Mickey says slowly. "Just remember, open mind, okay?" 

Ian and Lip share a look before turning to Mickey and nodding. 

"Alright, as I've already told you, you, Philip are unfortunately now a werewolf." Mickey took a deep breath before glancing over at Lip. "I have some information for you regarding that. Old lore and first hand accounts that will help you get a handle on your new reality. Our family obviously has no wolves in it, but we've been around long enough to come across our fair share. We can help you."

"Why?" Lip asked, confusion coloring his tone. "We don't know you. Why are you so eager to help two south side kids? I mean, look at this place. It's a fucking mansion. We can't possibly have anything you want." Lip sighed, dropping back against the side of the sofa tiredly. "Besides, I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around this anyway. I mean, what happens if you're wrong? What if the moon comes up and I just stay sick, no change, no wolf, no nothing? What if I just have rabies or some shit?" 

"I know it sounds bizarre." Mickey replies carefully. "But I've seen this kind of thing a million times, and I've dealt with these people before." 

"You mean the people in the Escalade?" Ian perks up considerably. "You've seen them too? They've been there the whole time? It''s been real since the beginning?" 

Mickey makes a confused face, glancing toward his sister, who shrugs. "Um, yes." he says slowly. "Why would they not be real?" 

Ian just shakes his head, feeling incredibly relieved. He glances at Lip, who is giving him a sympathetic look. "Nothing." Ian mutters. "Never mind." 

It says a lot about the state of his brain, that Ian is relieved to find out someone has indeed been following him this entire time. 

"Anyway." Mickey draws the attention back to himself. "We said open minds." he reminds the brothers. 

Ian fights the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes. Now tell us what the fuck is going on? Who are you guys? And who the fuck is hunting my brother??" 

Mickey takes a deep breath, glancing at his sister one last time before turning his eyes back on the brothers. 

"My family and I are what you'd call Upir. And the man hunting you is part of The Order. A religious sect that hunts what they consider to be monsters." 

Ian's mouth is hanging open, but before he can even form a question in his mind, Mandy is speaking.

"What is a monster anyway? Who decides what a makes a monster? Those pricks with the crosses? Men of God, my ass." 

"Mandy, please." Mickey sighs. 

"What is The Order?" Lip asks, ignoring Mandy's outburst.

"I think the more pressing question is what is an Upir, Lip." Ian interjects. "Since we're apparently sitting in a room with two of them right now." 

Mickey and Mandy share a laugh at that. Ian's not sure if they're laughing at Ian, or his question, but he doesn't see anything funny, and he won't be deterred. 

"No, seriously." Ian scoffs rudely. "My brother is sick. He apparently either needs an ER, or he needs to howl at the fucking moon. That's what you're telling me, right? Then you tell me we're being hunted by some religious cult who wants to kill my brother because he may or may not be a movie monster, and then, to top all that bullshit off, you tell me your some YOO-PIRE. Whatever the fuck that it." 

Mickey chuckles again, but clams up real quick when Ian shoots him a incredulous glare. 

"I'm sorry." he says, smiling. "This must be quite a shock to you. I forget sometimes, since this has been our reality for so, so long now. But I do remember what it was like when this journey first started for me, so I'm going to try and be a little less of a dick about all this." he cleared his throat, glancing over at his sister once more. Ian's noticing that a lot. Mickey and Mandy seem to be having these silent conversations with their eyes. She gives him a look and he nods, turning back to the brothers. 

"You, Philip Gallagher, are a werewolf. That is now an undeniable, established fact. Me and my siblings, on the other hand, are Upir. Which is just a fancy Ukranian name for vampire." Mickey raised his eyebrows, daring either brother to challenge him. "Now, we can discuss this more in detail later. But right now, Lip, we need to prepare you for the change. The moon will be full within the hour. We're running out of time." 

Ian's mouth opens and closes, but no sound comes out. A cold chill runs down his spine and he turns from Mickey's stony expression, to his brother's shell shocked one. 

Ian's head is spinning. 

This can't be real. None of this shit can be real. 

This can't be fucking happening.


	2. Anne Rice is a Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey comes across quite the scene in the forest, and suddenly his life becomes much more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is shorter than usual for me, but it fits well with the rest of the story, so forgive my brevity, please.

Mickey locks eyes with his sister as they lead the Gallagher brothers to their back yard. Mandy has a sulfurous look on her face. Like she would burn Mickey to a cinder with her gaze if she could. 

He already knows what she's thinking. He can hear the lecture in his head as if she were actually screeching at him. It's always the same with his sister. 

Do not bring strangers to the house.  
It's not safe.  
We need to be careful. We need to fly under the radar. We can never get too comfortable.  
This is life and death.

And on and on. 

Mickey usually agrees with that line of thinking. It has kept them alive-ish and well for quite some time. 

Mickey couldn't explain it to Mandy, even if he wanted to, which he doesn't. This is his house too. If she doesn't like it, she can cart her ass to one of their other houses and leave Mickey to it. 

The thing is, this kind of thing has never happened to Mickey, not in all the years he's been on the planet. So it's hard for him to explain his reasoning, since he doesn't understand it himself. 

He's drawn to Ian. He's been drawn to him since the moment he laid eyes on him in the forest. Mickey remembers the moment with perfect clarity....

 

*One month ago*

 

Mickey likes walking through the forest late at night. He'd just gotten back from a bar, where'd he'd fed on some drunk twink who wouldn't remember or notice anything different once he woke up. That's how he and his siblings lived now. They didn't take life, if they could help it. They took what they needed and left their host unaware and unharmed. 

Mickey had to drink blood to survive. That was a fact. But he didn't have to kill to get it. He could just take what he needed and move on. He didn't want to be a murderer, or a monster. Not anymore, anyway. 

So he fed off random strangers. Usually he'd hit up a gay bar, looking for someone who could meet both his needs. It was easy to find willing partners. Upirs like Mickey can be quite charismatic and persuasive, when they need to be. 

So after getting his dick sucked, and doing a little sucking of his own, he left the club and found himself wandering in the woods. 

He goes there a lot. It's been a private, safe space for him since his family moved to Illinois. It's about two hours from his home, but he likes the drive. He runs sometimes too, if he's feeling particularly wild. 

That's how he found himself wandering through the forest on the night of the full moon. He likes to meander between the trees on the nights when the moon is at it's peak. He enjoys being immersed in the wild, let the natural predator in him roam free in the darkness. 

He had been walking by a small creek, skipping stones across the water as he wandered through the darkened wood, when he was overcome by the strangest sensation. 

Now, Mickey doesn't get 'chills' per say. His body hasn't worked like that in a long time. But that's what it felt like. His whole body was vibrating. A deep tingling sensation curled through his limbs, settling in his chest. His ears perked up and his nostrils flared. 

He stopped walking, leaning heavily on a large tree, desperate to regain his balance. His head was swimming and his body was alight with a buzzing, frenetic energy. 

He tipped his head back as he placed a hand over his heart. A heart that hadn't beat in decades. He was shocked when he felt a pulse underneath his ribs. Not the pulse of his heartbeat, but a thrumming of energy. The feeling increased until his whole body was throbbing with it. The energy solidified in his chest cavity and he felt a PULL. 

It was almost magnetic. He couldn't stop it. His feet carried him further up the dirt path until he came upon a campsite. 

It was dark, so the men could not see him. He knew right away what had drawn him to this spot. 

He could feel the pulse increasing. 

There was a red head sitting by the fire. He was beautiful, even in the limited light Mickey could see quite clearly. The man's face was lit up by the dancing flames before him, bathing him in a warmth that made his face glow. 

Mickey still didn't know what was happening to him, but the pull was still pulsing insistently in his chest. The closer he got to the campsite, the stronger the sensation. He looked up at the tree he was leaning against, debating, before gripping it tightly in his hands and jumping.

Climbing trees was easy, even when Mickey was still human. He ascended quickly, hands and booted feet moving without thought until he was perched high above the campsite on a branch. 

He's still not sure what he was doing, but he feels more settled now that he's planted high above the men, hidden in the branches. 

He watches them for quite some time, not really listening to what they are saying, although he can hear them quite clearly. He's just watching the red head. The way his face lights up as he speak, the way his hands move as he animatedly tells a story. The way his body shakes with laughter. 

Mickey is so distracted by the luminous man, that he almost misses the sound. His ears perk up and he turns to the south, listening keenly. It's silent for a moment until he hears it again. 

Footsteps.  
Or more like paws....  
Shit. 

Mickey jumps down from the tree and sprints off in the direction of the sound. 

Mickey is not under any illusion that he is the only monster in the neighborhood. He runs through the forest, dodging low-hanging branches and leaping over roots. He is so stupid. It's the full fucking moon, of course he'd run into a wolf on his walk. 

Mickey has come across his fair share of werewolves in his life. He's not sure if it's just because he's been around so long now, or the fact that he travels so much, or if it's something more mystical. Like maybe he's drawn to other supernatural creatures by some force outside himself. He can think of no other reason why he's always coming across werewolves and witches, ghosts and shapeshifters. 

He destroys them, whenever possible. Survival of the fittest, and all that. 

He wonders for a moment, if there is more to life than this. More than surviving and killing. 

His thoughts are derailed when he comes across the beast. 

The wolf is big, but he's seen bigger. It has brown fur, which is covered in filth and blood. It's hunched over it's kill, a large buck. The wolf had eviscerated it, and was currently feasting on it's entrails. Mickey grimaces as the smell overpowers him. 

The wolf is distracted, so Mickey wastes no time. He jumps on the beast's back and snaps it's neck. The sickening wet crack of bones breaking fills the air and the animal crumples to the ground, dead before it hit the dirt. 

Mickey steps back, brushing off his pants as he watches the creature transform back into it's human form. Werewolves do that, after they die. He's sad to find it was a young girl. Her hair is matted with dirt and blood is smeared all over her face. Her naked body is covered with bruises and lacerations. 

Mickey sighs, unhappy with the turn of events. He doesn't like killing anyone, but he can't have wolves this close to his home. He's done well in keeping the area around his house free of other monsters. He does not want any unnecessary attention, and wolves are unruly and wild. They have no control, and Mickey doesn't need that kind of heat on him or his family. 

Mickey is drawn out of his thoughts when a blood curdling scream rips through the night air. His head whips up and his eyes fly around the forest, searching for the source of the noise. 

Shit, it's the campsite. 

Mickey is running back the way he came before his mind knows what his feet are doing. He knows what he's going to find when he gets there. 

Wolves travel in packs, after all. 

Screams rip through the air, and Mickey recognizes the red headed boy's voice among the cacophony of noise. Then, he hears something he does not expect.

The wolf, howling in obvious pain. Mickey smiles, imagining the red head getting a few good licks in against the beast. That would be impressive indeed. 

Mickey runs up on the campsite and is revolted with what he finds. 

One of the campers from earlier is dead on the ground, mauled by the wolf, clearly. He is covered in blood and his back is one giant, gaping wound. Mickey can see his broken ribs sticking out of his chest cavity, and his intestines are spread around in the dirt. It's awful. 

He can hear the other two a few feet away, out of sight. Mickey can't make out what they are saying, but he knows he can't stay and be found out. He turns his attention back to the wolf, who has a fucking ax buried in it's back. 

Mickey chuckles, amused that a human actually disabled such a ferocious beast.

But the wolf is not dead, and that just won't do. So Mickey plants a foot on the wounded animal's back, gripping the ax handle with both hands and pulling hard, freeing it from the animal. Black blood pours out of the wound and the beast whimpers. 

"Sorry about this." Mickey mutters quietly, before raising the ax above his head and burying it the animal's skull. The wet crunch of the the animal's head caving in makes Mickey grimace once more, but he doesn't have time to feel bad right now. He can hear one of the campers coming, so he tosses the ax aside and grabs the wolf by it's hind legs, dragging it into the brush and out of sight. By the time Mickey gets it behind a large, low bush, it has already transformed back into it's human form. Fur and fangs fall to the ground as the dead creature's body contorts and shrinks down. It's a strange thing to watch, and a little disgusting. 

Mickey gazes at the face of the dead person. Because that's what it is now. Again. A person. A boy, really. He looks almost as young as the girl Mickey left on the other side of the wood. They look similar, like they could have been related. 

Mickey knows that werewolf blood runs in families, just like his affliction. Hereditary, passed down. He wonders for a moment, about this pair of dead wolves. Dead children. Were they family? Did they have no choice like Mickey had no choice? 

But it's pointless to wonder. It doesn't matter. His eyes travel around the camp site, and he sees a trail of blood leading down a path. One of the other men must have been injured. 

That's not good. That's not good at all. Mickey knows what a bite or a scratch from a werewolf does. 

He's drawn out of his head when he hears footsteps on the path. Fuck, one of them is coming back. That's ballsy. There is no way for those men to know the wolf is dead. 

Mickey has to act quickly. He grabs the dead boy under his arms and drags him off into the brush. He dumps the body behind a tree, dropping it down into a pile of wet leaves. He crouches down just as someone bursts back into view. 

It's the red head. 

He's unharmed, that's the first thing Mickey notices. If he were bleeding, Mickey would be able to tell. He is covered in blood, but none of it is his. 

Mickey is surprised when the boy speaks.

"Hello?" he says, his head whipping around. "Who's there?" 

Mickey stays where he is, silently watching the man. He scrambles into a tent, almost taking the whole thing down with him as he gets twisted up in the fabric. He falls to the ground with a groan, muttering "Fucking hell." as he gets back to his feet and scrambles back the way he came, rushing down the dirt road.

Mickey is impressed. That guy just watched someone get mauled to death, and had the guts to return to the site, for whatever reason, without knowing if the wolf was still alive or not. Incredibly brave, for a human. 

He hears a car speed away and he knows the red head and his living companion have fled the scene. He walks back to the campsite to see what's left. He knows he'll have to bury the wolves, there's no way he'd leave them to be found. 

He's still not even sure why he got involved in the first place. He doesn't like wolves killing people, but he's never intervened before. 

If Mickey's being honest with himself, he's pretty sure he knows why he got involved. But he's not ready to think about that right now. So instead he wanders around the campsite looking for something to dig a hole with. 

He's fairly certain the cops will be arriving soon, so he has to work fast. 

He finds a small shovel by the fire. It will have to do. He grabs it, walking back over to the spot where he left the dead bodies of the children who used to be werewolves. 

He kneels down staring at them, resting his chin on the shovel handle. What a waste of life. Mickey's seen so much death, it all blurs into one big mourning. He closes his eyes, giving a quiet moment's reflection for these two dead children before he stabs the spade into the dirt. He wants to get them buried before the cavalry arrives....

 

2 weeks later. 

 

Mickey's not really sure why he's doing this. All he knows for sure is that it feels like the right thing to do. It's been so long since Mickey's FELT anything, he knows he can't ignore it. 

It's been two weeks since he happened upon the grisly scene in the forest near Starved Rock Park. Mickey had spent the night burying the corpses of the werewolf children in a shallow grave before walking back to his house just as the sun came up. 

He'd waved off Mandy and Iggy's questioning glances and gone straight to bed. He was tired. He couldn't remember the last time he was this tired. It doesn't happen a lot, for creatures like him. 

Mickey had stripped his filthy clothes and crawled into bed naked. He sighed in relief as the cool sheets caress his skin. 

He had willed his mind to stop spinning, so he could get some rest. But his thoughts kept getting drawn back to the red head from the campsite. He wondered if he made it home okay. He wondered how he's dealing with the death of that man. He wondered about the fate of his other companion, and what will happen when the man turns. 

Because he will turn, that is the simple truth. The man was bitten or scratched by the wolf, and he's been infected. 

Mickey wonders if the new werewolf will kill the red head when he finally does turn. 

He had gotten no rest that night. And none on any night since. It's not that big a deal, for a creature like Mickey, just uncommon. And unnerving. 

Like this entire situation. 

So every night, since that incident, Mickey lays in bed, the same morbid thoughts running through his mind on loop. 

That boy turning. That boy killing his whole family. That boy gnawing the redhead's head right of his pretty little neck. 

The thought of that happening makes Mickey sick. Like, physically ill. It's a strange sensation for Mickey, since he hasn't had feelings one way or another about a human being in decades. He just doesn't care anymore. He has nothing in common with them, and he usually has no desire to associate with them outside of sex or feeding. But for some reason, he can't get the boy out of his head. 

Suddenly, Mickey just can't lay there wondering anymore. He jumps out of bed and throws on a pair of clean jeans and a black t shirt before grabbing his phone and dialing a number he hasn't called in a while. 

It's early, so Mickey is hopeful he'll pick up. 

The phone rings three times before the line connects. "Mickey." the man greets. "Long time, my friend." 

"Lucas. Hey." Mickey replies. Lucas has been an acquaintance and an asset to Mickey's family for years. He's a good guy, as close to a friend as Mickey has, considering. 

And he's very useful. 

"What's good, man?" Lucas asks, voice dropping. "You wanna hang out? Grab a snack?" 

Mickey licks his lips. He could defiantly go for that, but he needs to get some information first. 

"Yeah man. Sounds good, can we meet up? I need to ask you something, but not over the phone." 

"Absolutely. I'm off today, so swing through whenever. I'll be ready." 

Mickey hangs up the phone and makes his way down the stairs, grabbing his phone and wallet along the way. 

His sister and brother are in the living room, playing Mortal Combat on the big screen in the family room. 

"I need to go out." Mickey says, grabbing his coat of the back of the couch and slipping it on. 

"You just got home, dude." Iggy replies, not bothering to take his eyes off the screen. 

"I need to go see Lucas about a thing that happened in the woods the other night." 

Mandy pauses the game, much to Iggy's dismay, and turns to face Mickey. "What happened in the woods the other night?" 

"I ran into a couple wolves. Watched them kill a kid, mauled another. I just wanna know what the official story is. See if we are going to have a problem." 

"Fucking wolves." Iggy spat, angry. "I hate those fucking things." 

"It's not a big deal." Mickey replied. "I killed them both. Buried and everything. It won't bring any heat. I just need to know if the other one is infected. If he is, we need to take care of it before The Order gets involved." 

"Man, fuck The Order." Iggy said, standing from the couch. "Fuck those collar wearing faggots. No offense." he added on sheepishly as Mickey arched an eyebrow at him. "I'm just sayin', they won't do shit." 

"You don't know that, Igg." Mandy replied, her face grave. "And Mick's right, we need to take care of any problems before it draws the attention of The Order. I don't want to move just yet. I like it here." 

"But we haven't heard shit about the Order in forever." Iggy sighed. "I bet all those holly roller pricks are long dead." 

"We don't know that." Mickey replied testily. "We need to stay vigilant, Iggy. It's how we stay alive." 

Iggy nodded, turning back to the TV. "You want me to come with?" he asked over his shoulder before turning the game back on. 

"Nah." Mickey shook his head, making his way into the hall. "I'm just gonna see what Lucas knows and go from there." he didn't see any need to tell his siblings about the red head, or the odd hold he had over Mickey. 

"Ah, Lucas." Iggy laughed. "You sure you're not just going over there to get your dick wet and gorge on some O negative?" 

"Fuck off, Iggy." Mickey groaned. "This could be important. And why do you give a shit where I stick my dick, anyway?"

"Don't." Iggy sniffed. "Just go. Come back and tell us if we need to go on a wolf killing spree. I would be down for that, it's been a while." 

"Yeah, whatever." Mickey said over his shoulder, already half way out the door. 

 

***

 

Lucas's apartment was small. Standard bachelor pad, situated above a small pizza place. Four rooms, all sparsely decorated with second hand furniture and cheap art from posters.com, or something equally square. 

Lucas was a decent person, always willing to help Mickey when he needed it. And the sex was pretty good too. Lucas knew what Mickey was, found out the hard way one night at the bar. Mickey had only planned on getting his dick sucked, and feeding off the guy, but when Lucas let it slip that he was a cop, well Mickey couldn't let that go. It was too good of an opportunity to let slide. 

It was always good for Mickey to have a cop on his side. It helped him and his family fly under the radar when inevitable slips happened. Iggy was the worst of them in that aspect. Even though he tried not to, he ended up killing the people he fed off every now and then, more often than Mickey and Mandy combined. It always made him feel like shit, and the family always had to scramble to cover their tracks. Lucas was always willing to lend a helping hand, whether it be falsifying an alibi or 'disappearing' evidence. Mickey knows that some day Lucas will call in all these favors, and Mickey's not looking forward to that day.

He has a sinking suspicion he knows what Lucas will want in exchange for all his assistance, and Mickey doesn't want to do that. He wouldn't wish this life on his worst enemy. 

The thing is, people have romanticized the idea of being a vampire. Movies, books, music, all that shit. 

Mickey's been around long enough to have seen it all. Dracula, Interview with the Vampire, fucking Twilight. That shit got in people's heads, giving them the ridiculous notion that being a vampire is sexy and exciting. That has not been Mickey's experience at all. Anne Rice is a fucking liar, making bank on the fucked up notion that being a vampire is a beautiful, tragically romantic adventure. 

It's actually a hard, dangerous, lonely life. Always looking over his shoulder, constantly battling his primal urges. Always fighting that thing inside him, that compulsion pushing him to kill and consume. 

He can't get close to anyone. He doesn't want to get attached, only to watch them wither and die as he stays exactly the same. And he doesn't want to turn anyone, condemn them to this life of violence and upheaval. So he is alone, with only his siblings, who sadly share his fate. 

He had no choice, born into it, so to speak. But he doesn't want to damn anyone else to this dark, solitary fate. 

But he needs Lucas's help. So Mickey will cross that bridge when he comes to it. Find a way to let Lucas down easy. He can always wipe his memory, but that is unpredictable at best, and dangerous at worst. He doesn't want to accidentally turn Lucas into a vegetable, or a permanent amnesiac. 

If it comes down to it, they might just run again, who knows. Mickey doesn't want to run, though. He's so tired of running. Which is why he's here in the first place. Do some damage control, gauge the repercussions of his reckless actions. 

And maybe, just maybe, see if Lucas could give him some information on the men from the wood. The red head, specifically. 

He sighs, pushing his spiraling thoughts to the back of his mind as Lucas comes back from the kitchen with two beers, handing one to Mickey. That's another thing the movies got wrong. He can drink. He can eat food too. Ironically, he enjoys bloody steak just as much as he did as a human. It takes him a shit ton more booze for him to catch a buzz. Probably enough to kill a regular human, but he drinks, nonetheless. 

Some left over vestige of his human life. Muscle memory or whatever. It's more of a social thing than anything. Helps him blend in. 

Not that he has to blend in with Lucas. 

"Haven't heard from you in a while." Lucas says, taking a long sip of beer. "Was wondering when you'd hit me up." 

"Been around." Mickey replied, placing his bottle down on the coffee table before turning to Lucas and grabbing his. He put the other bottle down on the table next to his and moving to straddle the other man. "We can talk after." he muttered, burying his face in Lucas's neck and inhaling deeply. 

Every human being had their own unique scent. Not their skin, or their hair, but their essence. Mickey hates that word, but it's the only one that comes close to describing it. It's the scent of the person, at their most basic. And the better a person's essence smells, the better their blood tastes. Mickey doesn't know why. It's not like you get an Upir handbook when you come of age. It's just one more random thing he's noticed in his years of being a parasite. 

Lucas smells good, pleasant and warm. Mickey runs his tongue along the tendon in his neck and he can feel that pull. The need to just sink his teeth in and drink. But he holds back. He's gotten good at controlling himself over the years, and he uses that control to keep in check. 

Lucas lets a groan slip past his lips, his hands sliding up Mickey's thighs to rest on his ass, pulling him closer as he tips his head up, meeting Mickey in the middle for a biting kiss, all tongue and dangerously sharp teeth. 

It's all a blur after that. Shedding clothes and grabbing hands. Harsh breaths and moving bodies. 

They don't even make it to the bed. Mickey is bent over the back of the couch, his head resting on the cushions as Lucas takes him from behind. Mickey groans, pushing back into the thrusts. Lucas's hand comes up to tangle in Mickey's hair, pulling his head back sharply as he snaps his hips. 

Then suddenly, Mickey stands up on his knees, catching Lucas off guard. The other man stumbles, tripping over his own feet and landing hard on his ass on the carpeted floor. 

"Mickey, what the fuck?" Lucas laughs, moving to sit up. But Mickey is faster, much faster, and he pins him to the floor with a foot to the chest. 

Mickey smirks down at him, moving to straddle him once more. He grabs Lucas's dick and presses it up against his ass as he sinks down on it slowly. Lucas groans, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. 

"You know how this goes." Mickey murmurs, rolling his hips slowly. "Gimme what I want, and I'll give you what you want." 

Lucas grins through a moan, one hand moving to curl around Mickey's hip, while his other hand extends towards Mickey's face. 

Mickey smiles, taking his offered hand. "Good boy." he says, pulling his wrist toward his mouth as he works his ass on top of the other man. 

Mickey rides him hard, hard enough to distract him from the searing pain of Mickey's teeth sinking into his wrist. 

Mickey's eyes slip closed as his mouth fills with blood. Fuck yeah. That's it. That's what Mickey needs. He sucks hard, fucking himself on Lucas's cock while he takes his fill from his wrist. 

Lucas lets out a low moan as Mickey feeds from him, still riding him hard. He comes like that, with his dick buried in Mickey's ass, and his lifeblood flowing down his throat. 

Mickey let's Lucas's hand fall once he's done feeding. He wipes at his mouth with his hand, catching a few stray drops with his fingertips. He perversely uses the left over blood as lube as he wraps his hand around his cock, pulling at himself as he fucks Lucas on the floor. He drops down hard on Lucas's softening cock a few more times before he comes too, shooting all over the other man's chest with a guttural growl. 

Mickey lifts himself off of Lucas and stands. Lucas is slower to recover, understandably. Mickey walks into the kitchen, wetting some paper towels to clean himself up. By the time he walks back into the living room, Lucas is just leaving the bathroom, dressed in sweats and nothing else. 

Lucas lights a cigarette as Mickey dressed quickly and spreads out on the couch again. 

"That was good." Lucas says, smiling. 

"Yeah." Mickey agrees. It was. Lucas is always good. A decent fuck, an easy meal, and a good source of intel. Mickey could do worse. "Listen, I gotta ask you something." Mickey finally said. 

"Of course you do." Lucas replied, smiling. "It's never simple with you. It can't ever be just fucking, or just sucking the life outta me. It's always gotta be something extra." 

Mickey chuckled. "I love how you think sucking the life out of you isn't extra." 

Lucas just grins, shrugging. "So what's up?" 

Mickey clears his throat, eyeing Lucas as he sits across from him on the couch, sipping a new beer, cigarette resting between his fingers. "I wanted to ask if you could get me all the information you can on an incident that happened at Starved Rock Park on July 22." 

Lucas's eyes go wide, and Mickey knows right then that the man knows exactly what he's talking about. 

"Why?" Lucas asks, leaning forward. 

"Luke, what did I tell you about asking stupid fucking questions?" Mickey retorts tiredly. They have this conversation every time Mickey needs information. It's none of Lucas's business, and the less he knows the better. 

"I think I have a right to know, seeing as I'm the one putting my fucking career on the line." Lucas replies hotly. 

Mickey sighs, putting his hand out for Lucas's cigarette. The man passes it over with an eye roll and Mickey takes a long drag. People think monsters have no vices, but Upirs are not like movie vampires. Mickey drinks, he smokes, he fucks. He just doesn't age, and drinks blood to survive. Mickey's sure there are stranger creatures out there than him. Although, he gets way more fucked up drinking from a wasted person than he does doing it the old fashioned way. He has no idea why, but it can be fun. 

Life is strange, these days. 

"Listen," Mickey starts carefully, passing the cigarette back. "I know it's random, but I have my reasons, and it's safer for you if you don't know the details. There was an incident in the woods on the 22nd. An animal attack. At least one dead, another wounded, one unharmed witness, I think. I need the information on the two other men. Address, medical records, whatever you can get." 

"I heard about it." Lucas concedes. "Vicious attack." 

Mickey nods, because it's true. 

"Was it, was it something like you?" Lucas asks carefully. He looks up at Mickey with a mixture of fear and awe on his face. Mickey forgets sometimes, how easy it is to frighten humans. Just the smallest hint of the unknown, and their limited minds are off and running. 

"No." Mickey replies, shaking his head. "Not exactly." 

 

***

 

Lucas got the information quickly. He always does. Mickey knows the conversation will come again soon. The one where Lucas asks Mickey to turn him, and Mickey turns him down, again. It happens every few months, and Mickey is getting very tired of it. This 'no strings' arrangement is getting very tangled indeed, and Mickey's afraid he's going to have to wipe Lucas's memory clean soon, and cut him loose, no matter how risky it is. He got too close to Lucas, got too comfortable with him. He will not make that mistake again.

It will be hard to find another cop to befriend, so to speak, but Mickey will not budge on this caveat. He can not give Lucas what he wants. He will be no one's maker. 

Mickey sits outside the house in his parked car. The house of Ian and Philip Gallagher. That is the name of the men from the forest, the ones who survived, anyway. 

Mickey tilts his head back against the headrest, bringing his cigarette to his lips as he eyes the window on the second floor. He's become a sort of unseen fixture around the house, and he's learned in that time that there are a shit ton of kids living in that house, and the place is always mired in chaos and teeming with people. He sees the men from the woods, Philip and Ian, coming and going at all hours of the day and night.  
Mickey's been watching them for a while now. He tells himself he's just keeping an eye on Philip, the wounded one. He tells himself he's just being vigilant. He tells himself he's protecting himself and his family from the danger that comes with a new wolf being so close to his home. He tells himself all these things, even though he knows it's all lies. 

He shakes his head at his own absurdity. What a fucking joke. 

He was watching them the day of the funeral for their friend. Mickey learned from Lucas that the kid's name was William. He was young, worked with the older Gallagher brother at some computer company. Played guitar in a shitty little band. Mickey felt an odd pang of sadness that the kid will never realize his dreams. Mickey had followed the Gallagher brothers home after the funeral and saw a black Escalade parked down the street when he pulled up. He'd bet his right arm that it was The Order, back from hiatus and looking to nip this new werewolf problem in the bud. 

No one ever gets out of the Escalade, and Mickey never gets out of his car either. They just sit on the street, silently watching the house, and secretly watching each other. Mickey knows this is a dangerous game to play, but he can't walk away. He doesn't know why, he just knows he needs to be here. 

If The Order is after the Gallagher werewolf, he will need Mickey's help to elude them. For whatever reason, Mickey has made this werewolf's survival his problem. 

Probably a very stupid thing to do. 

Mickey goes to the Gallagher house every night. Sometimes he sees the Escalade there, sometimes not. He wonders what kind of shit The Order is pulling. Usually they are more disciplined than this. Usually they are in and out before anyone knows what is happening. Never mind the fact that Mickey hasn't had problems with The Order since the sixties. He thought they disbanded years ago. 

But who else could it be? There is no one else. 

Mickey is pulled from his thoughts when he hears footsteps approaching from the south. 

He sinks down in his seat as the brothers walk past him. Ian, the red head is helping Philip up the stairs, holding him tight with an arm around his waist as they hobble up the stairs together. 

The one that was mauled, Philip, doesn't look so good, and Mickey knows tonight is the night. It's the full moon again, and soon Philip will be unable to control himself, and anyone within spitting distance of him is in imminent danger. 

Mickey sits in his car for a very long time. He can feel that pull again. That strange humming just under his skin, like the night in the woods, the first time he laid eyes on Ian. This thrumming, vibrating pulse that is dragging him under, like a tidal wave. He sighs, willing it back down so he can focus. He drags a hand down his face and licks his lips, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. 

He is startled when the front door of the Gallagher house flies open and Philip Gallagher bolts down the stairs and breaks into a sprint down the sidewalk. 

Shit! It's starting. Even though Mickey's been waiting for it, he's still surprised when it happens. He watches as Ian stumbles down the stairs and takes off after his brother, yelling his name as he chases him down the block. 

Mickey feels that pull again, this time much stronger. He rubs hand over a fluttering spot in his chest, where his heartbeat would be, and fumbles with the keys as he turns the engine over and starts down the street after the boys. 

In his rear view mirror he sees head lights turn on, and he knows the Escalade has been waiting for this moment too. 

Fuck. Mickey has to get to the Gallagher brothers before The Order does. 

He doesn't even need to look for them to track them, he just follows the pulse in his chest. This has never happened to him before, but he decides to just let his instincts guide him. He feels a sharp pang underneath his ribs at a four way stop, and instinctively turns left. The pulsing increases as he comes along an alleyway. He skids to a stop, parking haphazard and jumping out of the car quickly. 

He can hear the brothers approaching, their feet slamming against the pavement as they run for their lives. Mickey sees a doorway, and grins. He takes a step back before lifting his foot and violently kicking the door in. He knows the boys will be coming down the alley on the other side of the building, so he runs inside, looking for a way to get to them without attracting any unwanted attention. 

He's in an abandoned store, from the looks of it. Old merchandise and expired food is strewn across the floor, and the shelving is rusted and twisted, hanging off the wall in some spots. He hisses through his teeth as another thrill of electricity shoots through him, telling him they're getting closer. He makes his way to the back of the room, where he sees another door. He flicks the lock with his fingers and carefully opens the door. It leads to a deserted back alley. Mickey can hear footsteps approaching. Two sets running side by side, and another set, heavier and more urgent, giving chase. 

Mickey doesn't think, he just whips the door open and reaches his hand out, just in time to wrap around a bulging bicep. He pulls with all his strength and a weak and sickly looking Philip Gallagher comes tumbling into the store. 

Ian is right behind him, and in the chaos that ensues after, with Mickey explaining himself and trying to convince the Gallagher boys to follow him, Mickey realizes two things. 

One, he's getting in way over his head. He has no idea what to do with Ian and Lip the newborn werewolf. And two, that pull in his chest, that aching need, it directly connected to Ian Gallagher. And he LIKES it. 

As he drives them toward his house and hopefully far away from The Order, Mickey feels the buzzing under his skin dissipate to a dull thrum. With Ian this close it's like his whole body is vibrating with waves of low grade electricity. 

Curious. 

Since Mickey turned, ages ago now, his life has been one endless, bleak nightmare. But now, speeding through the darkened back roads behind Chicago, Mickey feels the closest to alive he's felt in decades. 

He chances a look at Ian, who is turned around watching his brother thrashing in the back seat. Even with the worried crease in his brow, the boy is beautiful. 

Mickey feels a small smile split his lips, and entirely different kind of fluttering in his gut. 

Curious indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how are we liking this so far? it's well beyond my comfort zone, but i'm enjoying writing it. hope you guys are enjoying reading as well <3


	3. In the blink of an eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gallagher brothers and the Milkovich kids get better acquainted on the night of the full moon. Mickey does his best to make Ian feel better about his new situation, by opening up about his own sordid past. Something he's never done before....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i'm late, i've been writing some fics for the EG Halloween Challenge. halloween is my jam, and i couldn't pass up the opportunity to get creative. but The Order is still on the hunt. thanks for sticking with me. 
> 
> *warning* it gets pretty graphic for a minute in this chapter. vivid descriptions of a werewolf change, a ritual suicide, explicit murder, and a fair amount of blood, along with cannon compliant homophobic rhetoric and slurs. just a heads up.

Lip was sitting quietly in the living room. Perched in an armchair by the fireplace. He sipped a glass of whiskey slowly, his eyes trained on the dancing flames held within the stone hearth. His mind was reeling, but he'd done all he could to prepare. He'd washed up, which seemed pointless in retrospect, taken off his watch and his chain, handing them over to Ian for safekeeping. 

Now, he sits quietly, even as his stomach churns and his body quakes through a series of increasingly erratic convulsions. 

He's not ready for this. He does not want this. He does not fucking deserve this. He huffs under his breath, his heartbeat quickening though he sits completely still. His head starts pounding and he can't take it any more. He stands from his seat without another word, downing the rest of his drink and striding out of the house without another word. 

He needs to be outside. 

The others stand quickly, moving to follow Lip out into the yard. 

Mickey knows how confusing this must be for the Gallagher brothers. He remembers what it was like for him, when the time came for his change. He thought he was ready, he had known it was coming. And even with all his foresight and understanding, he was woefully unprepared. He can feel the memories simmering just under the surface, on the verge of breaking free, but he stamps them down. 

He can't get pulled into pointless revelry right now, there is work to do. 

Mandy grabs a flashlight and her and Mickey follow the Gallagher brothers to the back garden. Lip is trembling terribly at this point, scratching his skin and whimpering. 

It's almost time. 

They make it to the middle of the garden before Lip collapses to his knees. His back arches severely and his fingers dig into the soft dirt as he howls in pain. 

"Take your clothes off, quickly." Mandy says, waving the flashlight at Lip menacingly. 

"Odd time to try and seduce me." Lip grits out, struggling to stand on his knees. 

"Very funny, dog." Mandy spits. "It will make it easier to change, dipshit." 

Ian moves to grip Lip under his armpits, helping him to his feet. 

"I don't think anything is going to make this easier." Lip groans, staring at his brother with a pitiful expression on his face. 

"It's gonna be okay, Lip." Ian murmurs, moving to help him pull his t shirt over his head. "We're just gonna have to trust that they know what they are talking about." 

Lip rolls his eyes, and Mickey knows what he's thinking. Why trust these creepy ass people they don't know? Some random stranger that has been kinda sorta stalking them. Mickey would feel the same way in his position, but he honestly has no other options. 

Once Lip is stripped naked, covering his junk with his hands and nervously shuffling from foot to foot, Mickey steps forward with something small his hand. 

"What is that?" Lip grinds out, wincing as his body is wracked with another wave of crippling pain. He struggles to stay upright, though. He'd rather not be writhing on the grass naked as the day he was born, in front of these bizarre strangers. 

"It's just a tracking device." Mickey replies, knowing full well that probably doesn't sound reassuring at all. "Just so we can find you once the sun comes up." 

"Like a collar? For a dog?" Ian asks quietly. 

"Yes and no." Mickey shrugs, taking a step closer to Lip and holding his hand out. Lip gives him a withering look before snatching the thing out of his hand.

"It is exactly a collar." Lip replies, eyebrows drawn together. 

"Like I said, it's just so we can find you tomorrow. Wolves can run far and long, and when you come to in the morning, you will most likely have no idea where you are. And you'll be naked of course. So it's best for us to be able to find you quickly, don't you think?" Mickey replies, arching his own eyebrows at a skeptical Lip. 

Lip makes a disgusted face, but fastens the collar around his neck. It's loose and he pulls at it miserably. "Ian, help me." he says quietly as his body quakes through another tremor. 

Ian steps up quickly, pulling the collar tight and fastening it. "Better?" he asks, his mind still reeling over this crazy turn of events. 

"Yeah, man, thanks." Lip says, moving his hands back to cover his balls. "So, you guys gonna leave me to it, or what?" he eyes Mickey and Mandy irritably. 

Mandy huffs, but turns on her heel and started back toward the house. Mickey however, didn't make any move to leave. 

"I said you can go." Lip bit out, once again falling to his knees. His head whipped back and his neck bulged with the effort it took to hold in a pained howl. 

"I'm not leaving him here alone with you." Mickey said, pointing to Ian. He was surprised when the words slipped past his lips, and from the looks of it, so were the brothers. 

"I'd never hurt him." Lip bit out, glaring up at Mickey from his spot on the grass. "He's my brother." 

"And in a matter of moments you will be a snarling, bloodthirsty beast. Filial love will mean shit when that happens. And I'm not leaving you alone with him so you can rip his heart from his chest with your teeth." Mickey spat, growing irritated. 

He wishes that Lip would just fucking take his word on this thing. They are running out of time. 

"I wouldn't..." Lip whispers, staring at Ian with wide eyes. 

"That kid who ate your friend, I bet he thought the same shit." Mickey replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "I bet he promised himself he'd never hurt anyone, and yet here you are." 

Lip let out a wet sounding sob, nodding slowly. "Okay." he said quietly. "Okay." 

Mickey nodded, shifting from foot to foot as Lip writhed and moaned on the ground, defeated and surrendering to Mickey and the change. The full moon beams down on them, reflecting starkly on Lip's pale, sweat soaked skin as he shudders on his knees, head bowed. 

Ian's eyes went wide as Lip's back started spasming, the veins in his arms and legs standing out, throbbing with his erratic pulse. 

"You sure you wanna stick around for this?" Mickey asked, moving instinctively to Ian's side. 

"I can't leave him." Ian said lowly. "I can't." 

Mickey just nodded, taking a step back, grabbing onto Ian's arm and pulling him back with him.

Ian's mouth hung open as he watched the horror unfold. 

"Try to breathe through it." Mickey mutters. When Lip looks up at him with murder in his eyes, he just shrugs. "I hear it helps." 

Lip glares up at Mickey, but the look is cut short when his eyes bug out of his head and suddenly he's retching. He gags and spits as his stomach empties all over the grass. He heaves and coughs, puking his guts up as Ian looks on, terrified.

Mickey grimaces, but doesn't look away. He needs to watch. He's overwhelmed with a need to protect Ian, in case shit goes sideways with his brother. 

Lip's whole body is quaking, his head whipping from side to side as if he were possessed. His body goes taught, every muscle pronounced and tight, his skin flushing and all the hair on his body standing up on end as he groans quietly. His body is twitching and Mickey can actually hear him grinding his teeth. The sharp cracking of his jaw grinding over and over is nauseating. Mickey knows time is up. He glances over at Ian, certain the other man is not ready for what he's about to witness. 

Mickey wait. The tension of the moment is almost a physical thing, hanging over them all like a dense cloud. Lip shatters the moment when he suddenly shrieks in pain, his hands flying up to his face, fingers pressing hard against his eye sockets. Ian feels bile rising in his throat as blood starts to seep out from between Lip's fingers. He cries out again as he drags his hands away from his face and his eyes bulge wildly before popping out of their sockets and land on the grass like a couple of golf balls, optic nerve still attached.

That does it. Ian folds over, hands on his knees as he lets the contents of his stomach go all over the grass. He heaves hard, coughing violently. He spits, cringing at the bile stinging the back of his throat. He's afraid to look up again, but he owes it to his brother to see this through. Lip has always been there for him, and he needs Ian now. 

Ian stands up straight, and he's disgusted with what his eyes fall on. Lip is kneeling on the ground, holding his hands in front of his face. He's got blood streaking down his cheeks, and wild yellow eyes where blue irises were only moments ago. His hand is contorted in a painful, unnatural way. A sudden, sharp cry rips it's way out of Lip's chest as his hand curls into a fist and fucking claws start to grow out of his knuckles.  


Lip whines pitifully as blood flows from between his fingers and long, sharp talons protrude from his hand. He stares at his hand, confused and horrified before glancing at Ian, his face stunned and scared. 

Ian can feel tears streaming down his face. He's never been more scared in his life, and that's really saying something these days. 

Ian jumps when Lip suddenly howls, slamming both hands against the ground hard. It starts some kind of bizarre chain reaction. Lip's whole body spasms, and his skin starts splitting. Up his arms, over his chest and back. It just splits wide open, peeling away from the muscle and falling off his body in large, meaty chunks. But instead of copious amounts of blood and muscle underneath, there is wet, matted fur. 

Mickey chances a glance at Ian, and is not surprised to find him pale as a ghost and on the verge of collapse. 

"Hey, you okay?" Mickey asks quietly. He feels like an idiot the moment words leaves his mouth. Of course he's not okay. Jesus. Stupid. 

Ian doesn't make a sound, just continues to stare at his brother as he falls apart before his very eyes. 

Lip's head whips back hard and he lets out a strangled noise, somewhere between a scream and a growl. His claws come up and start digging into the flesh of his face, tearing at it viciously. Mickey watches with morbid curiosity as Lip tears full strips of his own skin off his face. It hits the grass with a disgustingly wet plop. 

Inside these gaping wounds is not muscle or bone, but yet more wet fur. It's interesting to Mickey, in a sick sort of way. His eyes are wide as he takes in the scene before him. 

Ian on the other hand, is quietly losing his shit. He had been secretly clinging to the hope that all of this was a bad dream, or a delusion brought on by his disorder. But not even his sick mind could conjure up this kind of horror. 

Then, as if things couldn't get any worse, Lip's mouth falls open in a silent scream, and his fucking teeth start falling out. One by one, they pop out of his mouth like fucking popcorn popping. They just fly out of his mouth, scattering all over the yard. 

But the grand finale is what really does Mickey in. Even he is disgusted when Lip's face splits wide open and a fucking snout starts growing out of the gaping wound where his nose and mouth were just seconds before. 

Lip's jaw and cheekbones are all distorted, and fangs are growing in his mouth right before Mickey's eyes. Long, sharp looking fangs that could easily tear someone's head clean off. 

A strained cry slips past Ian's lips as the very last vestige of Lip's human form slips off his body, piling around him in chunks of bloody flesh. 

Standing before them now is a large black wolf. It shakes it's head back and forth, sending blood and bits of flesh flying in all directions. 

A disgusted groan rips out of Mickey's mouth and he jumps back. "Come the fuck on, man." he grouses, wiping stray bits of tissue off his jeans. "Bad dog." he admonishes, earning himself a growl from the Lip wolf. 

"Sorry." Mickey replies, smiling. Not really sorry at all. 

Ian drops to his knees in front of the beast, trying to find an hint that his brother is still in there.

"Lip?" he whispers, hand moving up toward Lip's snout.

"Ian, don't!" Mickey yelps, but it's too late. Ian lays his hand on Lip's muzzle, rubbing gently. Mickey waits for the vicious snap of teeth or the wet crack of Ian's bones, but nothing comes. 

Much to Mickey's surprise, Lip's wolf lays down on it's belly, snout on the ground, in a submissive pose, purring lowly while Ian pet's it's head. 

"Hey Lip." Ian says sadly. 

He just sits there for a moment, petting Lip's head, until the wolf stands up, shakes off one last time, and turns, dashing off into the forest without looking back. 

Mickey gives Ian a moment to process what he just saw before nudging him gently on the shoulder with his knuckles. "C'mon, man. I bet you need a drink after that." 

Ian huffs a small, humorless laugh, struggling to get to his feet. Mickey leads him back to the house and they return to the living room. 

Ian is lost in his own head. He can vaguely hear Mickey telling his sister to call Iggy, whoever that is, and give him the code for the tracking device. Ian's not sure what any of that means, but he's too consumed with what just happened to Lip to even think of asking about it. 

Mickey returns to the living room and mixes them both drinks. He hands one to Ian with a pensive smile. "May I sit?" he asks, motioning to the empty spot next to Ian. Ian nods. It's Mickey's house, why is it up to Ian where he sits? 

They sit across from each other on the sofa, quietly reflecting on the night's events, until Mickey breaks the silence. 

"Isn't it crazy, how fast everything can change?" 

Ian nods mutely, staring into his glass. 

Mickey takes a deep breath, knowing now is the time to tell Ian his story. 

"At least, I know that's how it felt when I turned." 

Ian looks up with wide eyes, and Mickey sighs. He doesn't really want to talk about it. His 'human' life was rife with violence and pain. He doesn't look back on it with any tenderness or fondness. The only thing left from that time that he cares about is his family. Mandy and Iggy. 

But Ian deserves to know, so Mickey steels himself. 

"Turned." Ian repeats, his voice hoarse. He's not sure he's ready to hear whatever Mickey is going to tell him. He's been through so much already in the past few hours. But his curiosity is eating away at him. 

He's hours away from home, in this strange place, with people he does not know, while his brother is off somewhere, killing a deer with his monstrous teeth, and eating it raw. Ian suppresses a shudder, forcing himself to hold Mickey's gaze. 

He watches Mickey take a deep breath, his shoulders slumping before he opens his mouth to speak. 

"I never had a say." is what comes out when he finally speaks. "No choice at all...."

 

Summer, 1959, London, Ohio

Mickey doesn't want to do this. He shouldn't HAVE to do this. But he doesn't have a choice. He can either change or die. Terry will have it no other way. 

Colin's already changed. So has Iggy. Joey is dead. And Mandy will make the change next year. All the Milkovich children will either be Upir or dead. It's just the way it is. 

Mickey walks down the main street of the stupid little town they live in, moving quickly. Nothing ever happens here. Which is fine. Mickey has enough excitement in his life. He makes his way home quickly, his feet carrying him along the familiar dirt road without thought. Mickey sighs, opening the gate to his family farm and making his way over to his favorite tree, sitting right on the edge of the property. You can see the whole farm from here, and Mickey like to sit under it's branches when he's feeling particularly melancholy. 

This is the seventh town he's called home in the past four years. His family is constantly on the move, going from place to place. Never putting down roots, never getting too comfortable. Never getting too close to anyone. It's not safe, not with the secret they keep. 

People talk. Especially in small towns like this. A family like Mickey's sticks out, no matter what they do. Their pale skin, bright eyes, and lithe, graceful bodies stand in stark contrast with the tanned, weathered bodies of the country townsfolk. Not to mention the energy they give off. Mickey knows he has a certain aura about him. Something that draws people in while simultaneously frightening them. It's part of what he is, even if he's still not sure how it all works. 

But the small towns are safer for the Milkovich family than the big cities. Big cities are giant, interconnected networks, and information flies fast. Word of Mickey in Boston could pass all the way to New York in a matter of hours. And Mickey's family is in hiding. Have been for Mickey's entire life. On the run from some shadowy underground group of monks. The Order. They have been hunting Mickey's family since the Middle Ages, or at least that what Terry, his father, has been telling him since he was old enough to listen. 

So every time Terry gets word from one of his connections that The Order is on their tail, Mickey's family packs up and flees under the cover of darkness. Mickey is lucky, they've been in London for over two years now. Long enough for Mickey to learn all the trails through the woods. Long enough for Mickey to discover the nicest fishing holes, the best place to eat. Long enough for Mickey to learn all the secret night spots in the surrounding towns. Places where a guy like him can find a little fun without drawing undue attention. 

Mickey is twenty one, and a lot of things have changed for him in the past few years. One of the bigger things being Mickey realizing he was gay. 

He'd always had a feeling, but pushed it down as much as possible. He slept with loose women around town, or working girls his brothers picked up when they all took the Buick out on weekends. It was kind of gross, how they'd all share the girl, but Mickey took his turn, to save face. Because Mickey had to fit in. He had to be a man. 

What was the alternative?  
Being a gay Milkovich? 

That was no small thing in his family. If Mickey could stay dead, he probably would have hung himself the moment he admitted to himself that he was into dick. But things being the way they were, death would never be an escape for him. 

But just because he couldn't die, didn't mean Terry couldn't make him suffer. There are plenty of ways to hurt a half Upir like Mickey, and Terry knows them all. Mickey had been on the receiving end of Terry's wrath enough times to know he didn't want to do anything to draw his ire. 

So he kept his meetings with other boys clandestine and infrequent. Just enough to satiate his craving. Just enough to solidify the fact that he was as gay as the day is long, no matter how much he tried to pretend.  
It was a secret, like mostly everything else in his life. It was easy to keep all these secrets, seeing as how he had no friends. Never spoke to anyone outside his family and random strangers he stuck his dick in. And even when he did speak, it was never anything of consequence. Mickey can't remember the last time he had an actual conversation with someone beside his sister. 

His life was lonely, and it would be sad, if he had feelings like that. But he doesn't. Emotions are not allowed in his family, and frankly Mickey prefers it that way. 

He doesn't know what life will be like after his turn. He wonders if he'll become even more detached, even more cold. He wonders if he is doomed to wander the earth in solitary, bloody reflection for all eternity. 

Mickey sighs. Why does he do this to himself? Introspection never gets him anywhere. He lifts himself up off the ground, where he's been sitting under his favorite tree for hours now, watching the sun travel across the sky. It was just starting to dip below the horizon now, the sky lit up with brilliant reds and oranges. Mickey sighed again, suddenly hit with the realization that this is the last sunset he'll ever see with human eyes. He runs a hand through his dark hair, closing his eyes tightly as he takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly. 

Okay. No more stalling. It's time. 

He slowly walks up the driveway of his family home. He shouldn't have gone for a walk this evening, but he really wanted to see the world through human eyes, just one more time. He walks quickly through the yard, heading toward the barn, where his family and his fate are waiting for him.

 

***

 

When Mickey walks into the barn, they are all indeed there waiting for him. Colin and Iggy are standing by the stables, leaning on the gate with their arms crossed over their chests. They would look menacing if Mickey didn't know them so well. They had twin smirks on their faces, like they were about to witness something mildly amusing, and not utterly horrific. 

Sitting on a bale of hay to the right was his sister. She was wearing a navy blue dress and had her hair up in a high ponytail. Mickey always thought she looked so young when she wore her hair like that. He forgets sometimes, how young she really is. Living the life they have, it ages you quickly. Not that she'd have to worry about that once her birthday rolled around next fall. Then she'd be stuck forever, just like the rest of his family. Never aging. Never moving forward. Never dying. 

Mickey shook his head, running both hands over his hair and down the back of his neck, gripping his shoulders tightly, trying to ease some of the tension there. 

His father loomed in the background, pacing across the hay-strewn floor with heavy steps. He was dressed in workman's overalls and dirty boots, a large kitchen knife dangling from his hand. 

"About fucking time." Terry growled. "There's still work to be done around here, and you've got the whole family waiting on your sorry ass." 

Mickey hung his head. Of course he'd get his ass chewed out for being late to his own suicide. 

"Sorry, dad. Just wanted to watch the sunset." Mickey mumbled, shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot. 

"The fucking sunset?" his father growled, stomping across the barn to get into his face. "What kind of pansy shit is that? You kept us waiting here so you could frolic in the grass like a fairy?" he gripped Mickey by the collar of his shirt, shaking him violently as he screamed in his face. "God damn pussy." 

"Sorry." Mickey mumbled. "I lost track of time." 

"This is the most important moment of your miserable fucking life." Terry spat. "Should just kill you like I did with Joey. He was a disgrace to this family, and I'm inclined to believe you are too. Are you going to shame our family, Mikhailio?" 

"No, father." Mickey mumbled. "I won't." 

"You better fucking not." Terry replied gruffly, shoving the knife into Mickey's trembling hand. "Get on with it." 

Mickey nods mutely, hastily unbuttoning his shirt and letting it fall to the floor behind him. 

This is the part no one knows about. When people see a vampire in a motion picture, or read about it in a novel, they are always turned the same way. They are bitten by another vampire. That is the only way to turn. 

That is not the case for Upirs like Mickey. 

Upirism is a trait passed down through generations. The legend says that Upirs are half demon, half witch. If a full Upir has a baby with a human, that baby will be half Upir. So, according to legend, Mickey and his siblings are half human, a quarter demon, and a quarter witch. Mickey's not sure how much of all that he believes, but there has to be some truth to it, or else none of them would be here. 

The problem with Upirs having babies with human women is the fact that the woman always dies. No exception. The Upir fetus is incompatible with the human body. The baby consumes the mother from the inside, until there is nothing left but the shell of the host. That is what happened to Colin's mother. And Iggy's after, then Joey's, Mickey's and Mandy's. This long line of women that gave their love to Terry, and their lives to bear his children. 

Mickey doesn't really think about his mother. Doesn't even know her name. And he's not going to think about her now. 

He's got other things on his mind. 

Mickey looks at the knife in his hand, cursing his luck for the millionth time. Being born into this, being born with his perverse proclivities. How unlucky could one person be? 

The only way a half Upir like Mickey can turn fully is to take his own life. Offering his life to god knows what in exchange for the 'gift' of Upirsm. What a fucking joke. 

If a half Upir didn't complete the suicide ritual, they would waste away. Their body will wither away as if eaten by cancer or wasting sickness. Growing skinny and weak, coughing up blood until their heart just stops. 

That's what happened to Joey. He refused the change. Refused to trade his soul for Terry's legacy. So he spent the remaining days of his short life alternating between vomiting up blood, and taking Terry's beatings. He lasted six months after his twenty first birthday. 

Today is Mickey's twenty first birthday.  
Today, Mickey dies.  
Today, Mickey is reborn Upir. 

Mickey looks down at the knife in his hand and then up into his father's eyes. He sees nothing there. No love, no compassion, not even morbid curiosity. His father just stares at him blankly, waiting. 

Mickey doesn't dare look at his siblings. He watched his brothers complete this ritual years ago, remembers every second in horrific, gory clarity. He remembers with awful, vivid detail how bloodthirsty Iggy was that first year. How unhinged. How insatiable and violent and murderous he was. He wished he didn't remember. He wished he didn't remember any of it. 

His poor sister has to watch it all. Watch all of them bleed out. Watching them die, knowing full well her time is coming. 

Mickey shakes his head violently, trying to rid himself of these painful, useless thoughts. He huffs out a harsh breath through his clenched teeth. 

Okay. Now or never. 

An odd, unnerving sense of calm descends upon him then as he grips the knife tight in his right hand. He struggles to slow his breathing as adrenaline courses through his veins and his heart pounds in his chest. 

He has an odd thought in that moment. This is the last time his heart will ever beat. 

He presses the knife against his left wrist until he feels the stinging pain of the skin splitting. He presses down harder, watching with detached curiosity as blood starts to seep out from beneath the blade. He drags the knife up his forearm, slicing it wide open, all the way up to his elbow. 

His eyes widen as blood flows freely from his wound. He takes another deep breath before switching the knife to his other hand and cutting himself the same way on the other arm. The deed done, he lets the knife fall to the barn floor with a dull thud. He stands there for a moment, just watching his life's blood pouring out of his veins, pooling on the floor until he starts to get lightheaded. He sways on his feet, his eyes slipping closed as he crumples to his knees. He's covered in blood now, but can't be bothered to care. 

His chest heaves and his eyes dart around the room. His brothers are watching him carefully, arms still crossed over their chests, no one daring to speak. Mandy is in the corner now, her hand over her mouth and tears streaming down her face. She also wisely stays silent, stays on the other side of the room. No one is to go near him. It's part of the ritual. He has to do it on his own. 

Mickey coughs once, his body breaking out in goosebumps. He's oddly cold, but he feels sweaty. His knees finally give out and he falls on his side, face pressed against the filthy barn floor. His breath is coming in short, useless bursts now, stirring up hay and dirt with every breath. 

Mickey's eyes dart around wildly as he feels his body shutting down. He's covered in blood now, and so, so cold. But his eyes catch on something outside the open barn door. 

There is a raven sitting in a tree in the yard. It's head is cocked to the side, and it's eyes are focused on Mickey. 

Mickey smiles weakly at the bird, watching with heavy eyes as it flaps it's wings and flies away. 

Mickey watches the raven fly off, oddly jealous if it's freedom, and finally closes his eyes. 

The ritual is complete. 

 

***

 

"Oh my god." Ian whispered, his eyes wide and full of fear. "You mean, you had to...." he trails off, his eyes landing on Mickey's perfectly smooth forearms. 

"Yeah, that's how it works for people like me." Mickey says. He knows he just finished telling Ian the story, but the first time someone hears it, they can get caught up on buzz words like 'vampire' and 'suicide', and miss the finer details. "The only way for someone with my parentage to become full Upir is to give my life for it. Does that make sense?" 

Ian nods, but remains mute. They just watch each other for a moment. Mickey wishes he knew what the other man was thinking. 

Unfortunately, mind reading is not part of the deal. 

"So you and your siblings all had to do that? Kill yourselves?" 

"Pretty much." Mickey nods, unsure what else to say. He doesn't tell many people these things. Can't even remember the last time he spoke about this shit at all. 

Ian surprises him then. Mickey had expected him to be afraid. Maybe to run, go looking for his brother. He expected him to be disgusted or angry. Expected him to call Mickey a monster or a demon, maybe try to fight him. Or kill him. 

But Ian did none of those things. 

He just sighed, leaning back against the cushions and extending his glass toward Mickey. "Can I get another whiskey, please?" 

Mickey fights to keep his face passive. He can feel a smile threatening to break out on his face, but he succeeds in holding it in. He quickly stands and pours Ian another drink, handing it over before falling back into his seat, giving Ian a moment to process all this shit. 

Ian sips his drink, a thoughtful, far away look in his eyes. Finally, after what felt like ages, he looks up and locks eyes with Mickey. 

"What was it like? After you came back?" 

It's the last thing Mickey expected him to ask. His mouth opens and closes a few times while his brain struggles to catch up. 

What was it like? 

"Everything had changed. Just like that. In the blink of an eye, everything changed." 

 

***

 

"Mickey." 

"Mickey, c'mon man." 

"Mickey!" 

Mickey stirs, feeling groggy and worn out in a way he's never felt before. He groans, moving to sit up, but a firm hand on his chest keeps him on his back. 

"Don't move just yet." Iggy says. Mickey is relieved that his brother is with him. 

He feels his face twisting up into some vague approximation of a smile. 

He did it. He survived. 

Maybe 'survived' is the wrong word. 

He is full Upir now. 

The weight of that realization hits him like a ton of bricks. 

Fuck. What now? 

Mickey forces his eyes open. His head is foggy and his eyes are heavy, but he pushes through all that, prying his eyes open and taking in his surroundings. 

He's in his room, in the main house. For some reason, he didn't expect that. 

He blinks slowly, feeling strange and unsettled. He can hear birds out the window, but beyond that he can hear other things. He can hear the wind rustling leaves on the far side of the yard, each individual branch creaking, each leaf fluttering quietly. He can hear a fox hissing in the underbrush by the road, at the end of their long driveway. He can hear the babbling of the brook, which is a half a mile from his house. It makes no sense, but he can hear everything, and he knows instinctively what each noise is, and where it's coming from.

He inhales deeply through his nose, and he can tell right away that everyone is home. Mandy is in the parlor. Terry is in the kitchen with Colin. They are drinking moonshine. Mickey can smell it like it's on his own breath, can almost taste it on his tongue. 

He's confused by his heightened senses, and a sudden thought occurs to him. 

Is this part of it? Upirism? 

It is painfully clear to Mickey in that moment that he knows nothing about this new life he's been given. Terry guards the secrets of their family very closely, no one can know. Not even the Milkovich children themselves. Not until they turn. 

So Mickey is mostly in the dark. He knows the basics. He is monster. Soulless. A harbinger of death. But that's pretty much it, which sounds pitiful now, even in Mickey's own mind. 

His brother must know what he's thinking, because he sits down on the bed next to him, passing him a small glass of whiskey. Mickey doesn't even remember him leaving the room, but he takes the drink with a small nod of thanks. 

He puts it to his lips, but stops short of sipping off it. "Uh, can I drink this?" he asks, feeling stupid. But he doesn't know. He doesn't know anything anymore. 

"Sure, man." Iggy smiles. "I forget how confusing this all can be." 

"Confusing?" Mickey echos. "You fucking think?" 

Iggy huffs a small laugh, running his fingers through his long blond hair. "Yeah, man, I know. Dad sent me up here to fill you in. Though I have to say, I think Colin would be better suited for the task. But I'm not going to tell dad that shit." Iggy smiled up at Mickey, but his face fell when he saw how scared Mickey was. "Oh, come on, man. You've been preparing for this your whole life. You know this is what we are. This is the way it is." 

Mickey nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Yes, he knew. He's always known, but now that it's real, he finds that he's very much afraid. 

"So, tell me." Mickey says quietly. "Tell me what it's like. What do I need to know?" 

Iggy takes a slow breath, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Okay." he says quietly. "So, you know you're Upir now. That means a few things. I know you know we don't get hurt, right? Can't die?" 

"Yeah." Mickey nods, his mind going back a few years to when Colin got shot, point blank with a shot gun. He'd gone down, sure. Blood everywhere. But by the time they got him back to the house, he was fine. It was like it never happened. Mickey had been in awe at the time. They'd had to run that night. The townsfolk were already talking about the man who could take a bullet and walk away. 

So Mickey knew they were immortal. He knew that. 

"But we're still kinda people too." Iggy says. "You know, we can eat food if we want, get drunk, fuck. All that shit." 

Mickey nodded again. You do not live in a house full of Milkovich men without knowing about booze and drugs. The only high better than cocaine for Terry Milkovich was human blood, and he indulged in both quite frequently. 

"So, we eat human food to fit in or whatever, keep a low profile. Shit is tasty as fuck, but serves no real purpose for us. We need to drink blood to survive. Without it, you will waste away, Mick. It's non-negotiable. It's gonna be weird for you at first, but you'll get used to it."

Mickey took a shuddering breath. He knew that too. None of this information is new, but he still can't quite comprehend it. The reality of it. The finality of it. 

Iggy keeps talking, oblivious to Mickey's inner turmoil. "So, there are a few things we can do to make it easier to feed. It's gonna take some practice, but I have a feeling you'll be a natural." 

Mickey looks up, confused. "Huh?" 

Iggy has this strange, proud looking smirk on his face, and Mickey only gets more confused. 

"Well, put it this way: it can be hard to find a willing participant when you want to feed. Almost impossible, really. For whatever reason, when you tell someone you want to drink their blood, they get kind of weird about it."

Mickey snorted a laugh at that. His brother had a gift for understatement. 

"So what, do we kill them?" Mickey asked, all humor lost from his tone. 

"Sometimes." Iggy conceded, averting his eyes. "Terry likes to do it that way. Thinks it's what we're meant to do. Super predators, that's what he calls us. Says we're at the top of the food chain, and people are here solely for us to feed on. Don't tell him I said this, but I think that's bullshit." Iggy shrugged, like talking about taking human life was no big thing. Maybe it wasn't to Terry, but Mickey couldn't wrap his head around it. He hoped it never became normal to him. 

"So, what we do instead of killing them, is we mesmerize them." 

"You do what now?" Mickey balked, surrendering to his nervous energy and standing from the bed. 

"Whoa, whoa." his brother jumped up, pushing him to sit back down with a palm to the chest. "Relax, man. You need to rest." 

"I don't need any more fucking rest." Mickey spat angrily. "Just tell me what the fuck this mesmerizing shit is. Sounds important." 

"It's very important." Iggy agrees, nodding once more. And you're going to have to practice a bit, but you'll get the hang of it, I'm sure. Real quick study, you always were." 

Mickey rolled his eyes at the praise. He didn't need his brother stroking his ego right now. He needed answers. "How does it work?" 

"It sound more complicated than it really is." Iggy said. "All you really have to do is focus. Focus on the person you are trying to control. Get into their mind. You give off these calming vibes, y'know, like a human tranquilizer. You send out this feeling, like everything's okay. You feel it, like inside you, and then they feel it, inside them. And your mark will start to feel all loose and happy, safe around you. Then you can feed. They will want to be around you, want to please you. They'll give you anything you want, do anything you say. Then, if you're really good, you can make it so they don't remember a thing. It's pretty sweet, actually." 

"So it IS mind control?" 

"I guess you could say that. We don't call it that." Iggy said. 

"But that's what it is, you are forcing someone to do something against their will, and making them think they want it." 

"Jesus, Mickey. You are gonna go mad if you look at it that way. I haven't even finished talking yet. Let me finish before you get all self righteous on me." 

Mickey pursed his lips, biting off his angry retort. He had to hear his brother out before he made any assumptions. 

It was just so strange to him. He knew about the blood drinking, and he knew about the killing. But no one had ever said a single word about mind control, or what essentially sounded like vampire mind rape. 

Mickey's head is spinning. He lays back down, burying his face in the blankets. He's hit with the odd urge to cry, but pushes it down. He's too old for that shit now. 

Too dead for that shit now. Whatever. 

He's not sure how long he lays there, face covered, lost in thought, but soon he's sitting back up. Iggy is still there, watching him carefully.

"Fine." he says finally. "Teach me. I'm hungry." 

Iggy gives him a wide smile. "That's what I wanna hear." he laughed, pulling his brother into a tight hug.

 

***

 

"That night was the first time I fed on human blood." Mickey says quietly. He doesn't look up. He doesn't want to see Ian's face. He's scared of what he might see in the other man's eyes. He's surprised to find he cares what Ian thinks of him. He hasn't cared about a human being in decades. 

He's still not sure what it is about the boy that makes him feel all these strange things, but the pleasant warmth in his core is a welcome change, after the dull emptiness he's become accustomed to in the past sixty years. He finds he likes it. He likes Ian. 

He also finds comfort in sharing these stories. Things he's never told anyone, not even his family. It's a relief, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, and he feels like he can breathe for the first time in his life, human or otherwise. 

Ian, for his part, is a bit overwhelmed. He was having a hard enough time dealing with Lip turning into a dog in the back yard, and eating his own human remains. 

Ian shudders at the memory, feeling queasy all over again. He tries to draw his mind away from his brother, out there in the wilderness all alone. He turns to Mickey, deciding he'd rather here more about his strange life, than speculate on the fate of his brother's, for the moment. 

"So, was it instantaneous then? The mind control?" he asks, surprising even himself with the question. All strangeness aside, the idea of being able to have complete power over another person like that is intriguing. 

"No." Mickey laughed, shaking his head. "I was horrible at it." 

 

***

Columbus, Ohio Winter 1960

Mickey is having a bit of a hard time adjusting to his new life. Even though it's not all that different from his old life. He still has to work his hands to the bone around the farm, only now it's three times as much work, since he doesn't tire like he used to. Terry works all the boys like dogs. Like slaves. He beats them like slaves too. His father is ruthless, and keeps the boys in line with torture and starvation. 

It's not like they can go to the police with their concerns. What could they say? Their father kept them buried in the yard when they displeased him? That he'd chain them up in the barn with a bleeding person feet away, until they were driven mad with thirst? That he would cut off their hands to teach them a lesson, knowing full well the pain of them growing back was worse punishment than the amputation? 

Yeah, that would go over really well. 

And running was not an option either. Upirs related by blood could track each other anywhere. It was the same with an Upir and it's maker. There was an intangible connection that could only be severed by death. 

So there would be no running from Terry. 

So Mickey did as he was told, that didn't change when he changed. 

Like right now. 

He didn't want to be here, in this whore house in Columbus with his brothers and his father. He doesn't want to do any of this. There has to be a better way. A better way to learn these things. 

But he doesn't say any of that. He just sits there, like the fucking pussy he is. He's sitting on a small sofa by the window, a glass of whiskey in his hand as he stares out at the trees in the yard. His brothers are sitting at a table across the room, playing poker. Terry is fucking some nameless whore on the giant bed in the middle of the room. 

Mickey can hear everything. The creaking of the bed, his father's breathy grunts, the girl's pained whimpering. His brothers shuffling their cards or clearing their throats. He doesn't have to look over to know that Colin is scratching behind his ear at the moment. 

He can smell the girl, too. She's young, Mickey can tell that much. And new. She hasn't been a prostitute for long. You can smell the older ones. Smell all the different men on them, smell their desperation, their sorrow, their bone-deep exhaustion.

But this girl just smells like fear. And tears. And blood. Mickey can smell blood on her like she bathed in it. 

She's on her period. 

That's probably why Terry chose her for them. A bleeding girl is enticing for Upirs. Well, most Upirs. 

Mickey has no desire to bed this girl, or to drink from her. But he will do both, and keep his opinions to himself. 

Terry finishes with a low grunt, pushing off the girl and standing naked from the bed, no shame. He grabbed his discarded pants and pulled them up, zipping his fly and sauntering over to the table. He swats at Colin's head, smacking him hard. 

"Ow." Colin mumbles, rubbing the back of his head gingerly. He looked up at his father with obvious fear in his eyes. Terry had that effect on his sons. "You, uh, want me to go next?" he asked, his eyes flitting over to the girl sitting on the bed. She was staring at the wall, her expression blank. She was slightly swaying, as if moving to a tune only she could hear. 

"No." Terry replied gruffly. "I want you to get the fuck up. That's my seat." 

Colin nodded, quickly moving to stand. Terry took his place and leveled Mickey with a cold glare. "You go." he said, nodding toward the girl. 

Mickey's stomach dropped.  
Fuck. 

Yet another thing he didn't want to do. He was used to pretending, fucking women to maintain the illusion that he was normal. But he never really got used to doing it in front of his brothers. He's not sure what Terry gets from these perverse displays, what kind of sick pleasure he derives from witnessing his sons fucking. He won't ask, though. 

He's just thankful that his body cooperates at times like these. 

He gives his father a small nod, moving to stand. But before he can even get to his feet, his father grabs him roughly by the collar of his shirt, dragging him down so they are eye level. 

Mickey fights to maintain eye contact, even though he's desperate to avert his gaze. Terry's breath stinks. Mickey fights a gag against a disgusting mixture of alcohol, pussy and blood. 

"You go over there, and you fuck that little bitch. You fuck her and you feed off her, and you make her think she wants it. Do you understand me?" 

A cold shiver runs down Mickey's spine. 

No. Fuck no. 

His father not only wants him to bed this girl, who can't be more than fifteen, but he wants him to feed from her, and mesmerize her as well? He's only been practicing for a few months, and he's not at all confident in his abilities. 

But there is no room for doubt. He must do this. Or suffer the very painful consequences. 

He nods again, and his father finally releases him, pushing him toward the bed roughly. Mickey stumbles, but rights himself quickly. He walks over to the bed, staring at his shoes. 

He strips his clothes, crawling onto the bed. The girl just sits there, watching him, that same blank look in her eyes. 

Mickey thinks of all Iggy has taught him. How to get inside someone's head, how to control their thoughts. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. 

"Lay down." he says quietly. She does. The girl is still naked from her time with Terry and as the sheet falls away Mickey can see her naked body. She's covered in bruises and old scars, fresh bite marks on her neck and wrists, one almost hidden on her inner thigh. She gives him a small, shy smile. 

Mickey's stomach twists. He does not want this. 

But he shoves those thoughts away. He doesn't have a choice, just like this girl doesn't have a choice. She was probably sold into this by her father. Just like Mickey was pushed into this life by his. 

He closes his eyes as he takes his dick in his hand, conjuring up more enticing images to get him where he needs to go. The girl looks confused, but wisely keeps her mouth shut. While Mickey is jerking his cock, he starts to send out his aura, those calming, peaceful vibes Iggy's been teaching him about. It flows off him in waves, he can almost see it in his mind's eye. Wave after wave of light blue mist flowing off Mickey's body and enveloping this nameless girl. When he opens his eyes, she has this blissed out look on her face, a wide smile splitting her lips. 

"Spread your legs." Mickey whispers. She does. He enters her quickly, wanting to get this over with as fast as possible. He fucks her roughly, but she makes no protest. She lays on her back with her hands at he sides, eyes on the ceiling. 

Mickey is still concentrating hard on keeping the girl calm. He send out wave after wave of blue bliss, just wanting to make this as painless as possible for both of them. He knows what he has to do next, he can feel it in his bones. Even if his father didn't require it, Mickey wants it. It bothers him how much he wants it. He struggles to keep his focus on the mesmerization as he fucks the girl into the mattress.

"Gimme your wrist." he grits out, rolling his hips faster. The girl does, she lifts her arm and puts it in his face. He can smell her blood, leaking from between her legs, smearing all over his thighs. He is struck with an odd pang of hunger. He leans on one arm and grips the girls wrist with his free hand, bringing it to his mouth without hesitation. He sinks his teeth in, relishing in the sound of her flesh tearing. She gives a little gasp, but says nothing. 

Mickey fucks her hard while he takes his fill from her wrist. She tastes good. Not great, but good enough. Mickey can tell she drinks too much, takes too much cocaine. Mickey can actually feel a bit of a buzz coming on. She's so high, it's seeping out of her blood and into Mickey's. His hips stutter as he nears the end, and he increases his pace. It all feels so clinical. Like he's part of some odd demonstration. He hates this. The show of it all. Having to prove himself, not only as an Upir, but as a man. 

He's so lost in thought, he barely registers his orgasm. It's mediocre, and over before he even notices it. Before he can get up, though, the girl starts thrashing. She screams, slapping her hands against Mickey's face and chest. 

"What are you doing?" she screamed. "Who are you? Why am I bleeding?" she shoves Mickey off her and scrambles off the bed. She's still naked, and covered in blood. She makes a move for the door before Mickey's even off the bed, but she doesn't get far. Terry grabs her around the middle and body slams her on the floor. Then he's swinging on her, hitting her with a closed fist. She weakly tries to defend herself, folding her hands over her face.

Mickey fucked up. He lost his concentration. The mesmerization has shattered. The girl is fully aware of the horror she's enduring. 

The girl screams, writhing on the floor, trying to escape Terry's fists and grabbing hands. Mickey and his brother look on in horror as Terry shoves her down and pins her to the floor as he hovers over her. 

The girl yelps in pain as Terry presses a booted foot against her neck. Her eyes go wide and she gasps for breath as Terry holds her fast to the floor. 

Terry looks up at Mickey with disgust in his eyes. "Can't do anything right." he spat. "Fucking disgrace." and with that he crushed the girl's windpipe under his boot. A sick snapping sound reverberated around the room. It was oddly silent after. No one moved or made a sound. 

It was just Terry's harsh breath and the faint sound of music downstairs. 

After a moment, Terry walked away, leaving the dead girl crumpled on the floor. He looked at Colin. "You, go downstairs and take care of them. Make it so we were never here." 

Colin got up and left the room without a word.

Terry turned on Iggy then. "Start the car. We're going home." 

Iggy nodded, his eyes shooting to Mickey before he too took his leave. 

That left just Terry and Mickey. Terry walked over to Mickey, grabbing him roughly by the scruff of his neck. Mickey is so full of shame. He stands, still naked, before he father, unable to look away. "What did I say? You were supposed to concentrate. You are supposed to be better than this. You can't lose control like that. That's how you get caught. You'll get the whole family destroyed. Fucking idiot. You know the fucking rules. No witnesses, and no fucking turning anyone. Am I being clear, you weak little fuck? You get a handle on this shit, or I will end you." he growled. "I won't have some useless, clueless Upir for a son." he spat, throwing Mickey roughly to the floor. 

He landed with a grunt on his face, in a puddle of the girl's blood. He looks over and she's staring at him with her dead eyes, that same far away look on her inanimate face. A thought occurs to Mickey in that moment. 

This girl is the first person he mesmerized. And badly at that. She also the first person he fed on that ended up dead. Directly or not, Mickey caused this young girls death. 

Mickey rolled on his back, closing his eyes. He knows he has to get downstairs, or Terry will leave without him. But he needs a moment to himself. 

To mourn the loss of the last vestige of his human soul.

 

***

 

"Jesus Christ." Ian muttered, running a hand through his dirty red hair. Well, that explains why Ian wasn't nervous to come with Mickey tonight. Explains where that odd, blissed out calm feeling came from back in the store. He feels like he should be angry with Mickey, for controlling his thoughts, for altering his emotions. For someone like Ian especially, having your mind fucked with is not cool. But he finds he can't be angry about it. No matter what magic mind powers Mickey used to get him here tonight, he is glad he followed him. Mickey is helping Lip, and anything else is secondary to that right now. 

Mickey couldn't look at him. Not yet. He can't imagine what the other man must be thinking of him now. Not only was he a soulless monster, but he just solidified the fact that he was also a cold blooded murderer. 

But Ian surprises him once more with what he utters next. 

"That must have been so hard for you." he says lowly. "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

Mickey's eyes shoot up and lock with Ian's. They are sitting so close Mickey could reach out and touch him. He doesn't, of course. He tempers his bizarre desires, leaning back a little to put some space between them. 

"I don't know if I'm overstepping, but your father sounds like the only monster in any of these stories." Ian says, glancing up at Mickey through his lashes. His hands are clasped tightly in his lap, his fingers twitching compulsively. "Is he still around?" Ian asks suddenly, his eyes shooting wildly around the room as if Terry Milkovich might pop up at any moment and rip his throat out. 

"No." Mickey replied quietly, his face dark. "Terry's been dead for a long time." he said, chancing a glance at Ian. He looks relieved, as if he expected Mickey to serve Ian up to Terry on a silver platter.  


Mickey feels a pang at that thought. Sadness maybe. Disappointment, even. He wants Ian to trust him. But it's stupid for him to expect that so soon. The poor kid barely knows him. And after all Mickey's told him, it would make more sense for Ian to be disgusted or at least unnerved. 

Mickey needs to get his head on straight, and remember that shit. 

So he pushes the feeling down. 

"How?" Ian asks before he can think better of it. "How the fuck do you even kill... one of you?" What a stupid thing to ask. Now it looks like Ian is cooking up ways to off this intriguing stranger. 

That's not where his head is at at all. He actually appreciates everything Mickey is doing for he and Lip. The kindness he's showing them is unbelievable, and Ian is so grateful. 

Not to mention the odd attraction Ian has to the mysterious, dangerous stranger. Ian should be scared. He should honestly be terrified, especially after everything he's seen and heard in the past few hours. But he can't shake this odd, consuming pull he feels deep inside. He's drawn to Mickey, haunting and enigmatic as he is. 

"Well, since you asked so nicely." Mickey chuckles darkly, locking eyes with Ian. "I guess I'll tell you that sordid tale too." 

 

***

 

Dorset Vermont, 1988

Mickey's existence is suffering more than anything these days. It has been decades since his turn, and his family does nothing but run from small town to small town, dodging the elusive Order every few years or so. 

The Order seems to be losing steam, as far as Mickey can tell. Thirty years ago, when religion was still very much a leading factor in the United States, The Order, a group of Catholic monks dating back to the Middle Ages, was a very real threat to monsters like Mickey. Word would come from other clans of whole families getting wiped out by The Order. Vampires, Upirs like the Milkovich clan, werewolves, witches, shapeshifters. All manner of supernatural beasts were under death warrant, sanctioned by the Holy Father himself. 

But, as the moon landing came and went, followed by disco fever and then the Challenger explosion, religion was losing it's vice-like grip on the country. Less and less people were going to church, relying more on science than biblical myth. Less and less people buying into the demon possessions, satanic witch cults or undead monsters sent to steal your soul. Theories the Church thrived on for centuries. 

The fact that some of those stories were true was besides the point. 

So, as the older priests who still believed died off, they were replaced by newer, younger priests, who held a different set of beliefs. 

The old guard was dying out. The idea of exorcisms and witch burnings and vampire hunters was going out of style, much like the idea of divorce being a mortal sin and gay people being damned to hell. 

But just because The Order is slowly fading into a memory, that doesn't mean Terry's any less paranoid. 

So the family still runs every few years. Even though no one had even heard a whisper of the Order in over two decades. 

They've been in Vermont for almost two years. So Mickey's guessing they will be moving again soon. 

Mickey is getting so tired of this shit. It's the same no matter where he goes. He can't ever really BE anywhere. He never makes friends, he never really even talks to anyone outside of family. Terry is paranoid about that too. Thinks everyone is a potential enemy, every one is a possible mole for the Order. 

Mickey thinks he's insane, but is smart enough to keep that to himself. 

He keeps a lot of shit to himself these days. He confides in no one. Especially about his darkest secret. One would think being an immortal demon creature that fed on human blood would be his darkest secret, but no. Life was never that simple for Mickey, soulless being or not. 

He had to go and complicate things even further with his perverse proclivities. 

No, that was his father's voice in his head. Mickey refused to believe he was a pervert. He refused to believe there was something inherently wrong with the way he was born, just because he preferred the company of other men. Where he stuck his dick should have no bearing on how other people saw him. 

Maybe one day he'd live in that world. Where his gayness was just another insignificant fact in a myriad of traits that made him who he was. 

But today was not that day. 

Mickey knows his father would not hesitate to eviscerate him if he even got the slightest inkling that Mickey liked dick. The thought sends a chill down Mickey's spine. He vowed long ago to never slip. Never let anyone in his family discover his true nature. It was just too dangerous, and sadly, he didn't think he could trust any of his siblings. Their fealty to Terry was too strong. 

So that's why he finds himself sneaking Thomas into his house while his family is out hunting. Mickey begged off, saying he was still satisfied from their last feeding excursion. The truth was, however, he would much rather kill two birds with one stone. Feed and get his rocks off. 

Thomas was a boy from town. Mickey had seen him around, could tell right away that he was gay. He was one of those super effeminate dudes that thought he was fooling people, but really wasn't. Mickey had propositioned him one day about six months ago after he walked out of the local diner. And what closeted gay kid would turn down clandestine, no strings sex? 

So now, Mickey and Thomas met up whenever the need arose. Mickey was a pro at mesmerization now. It was second nature to him at this point. So whenever he and Thomas hooked up, Mickey got both his needs met, and Thomas was blissfully unaware. 

The deal worked out for both parties, and what Thomas didn't know wouldn't hurt him. That's what Mickey told himself, anyway. 

It was a day like any other. The house was quiet with everyone gone. Mickey sat on the sofa listening to the new Guns & Roses album on the turntable. He had a cassette player, but found the music didn't sound as good as it did on record. So he was just sitting there, sipping his whiskey slowly, singing along to "Sweet Child O Mine" when there was a quiet knock on the door. Thomas knew by now that Mickey could hear him no matter how low his knocking. What Thomas didn't know was that Mickey had heard his tentative footsteps coming up the driveway the minute he stepped onto the property. 

Again, what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Thomas had no idea who Mickey really was. Just another person who saw what Mickey wanted them to. Just another unwitting player in Mickey's constant farce of a life. 

Mickey sighed, downing the rest of his glass and refilling it before rising from the sofa to answer the door. Thomas smiled shyly at him, and Mickey forced himself to smile back. 

"Hello Mickey." Thomas said quietly. Kid was so fucking quiet, all the time. 

"Hey Tommy." Mickey replied, running a hand through his hair as he eyed Thomas. He was good looking enough. Taller than Mickey by a few inches, dirty blond hair and hazel eyes. His body was tight and well muscled, from years of hard work on his family's farm. Mickey could do worse. "How's it going?" 

"Well, thank you." the kid replied meekly. Mickey fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

Thomas was an alright guy, and a decent enough lay, but god, would it kill the kid to be a little more lively? The irony of Mickey wishing someone were more lively was not lost on him, but sometimes it felt like fucking a dead fish. Kid has zero passion, and even less charisma. Mickey's never even seen him angry. He's got nothing in the way of emotions, like an empty shell of a person. Mickey's not sure what he wants from Thomas, but he knows he never gets it. 

But none of that shit matters. This is an arrangement. A means to an end for both of them. Mickey shakes off the unwelcome thoughts, stepping aside so Thomas can come in. He takes his coat, hanging it over a chair in the living room before walking back over to the bar in the corner of the room. "Wanna drink?" he calls over his shoulder, already setting his own glass down and grabbing an empty one in anticipation. 

"Yes, thank you." Thomas replies, sitting on the low sofa by the fireplace. 

Mickey mixed the drinks quickly. This was all routine. They followed the same steps every time they hooked up. One shared drink, then down to business, then they parted ways. Mickey liked it best this way. No small talk, no forced civility. He knew little to nothing about this boy. Just that he was of age and shared Mickey's deviance. What else was there, really? 

Once the drinks were finished and the glasses set aside, it all went rather quickly. No reason to stretch this out more than necessary. 

Their clothes were stripped, their bodies meeting on the sofa as the fire roared in the background. Mickey was on top, since it made it mezmerization easier, as well feeding. He rocked slowly in Thomas's lap, grinding down on the cock throbbing inside him as he gazed into Thomas's lust blown eyes. "Like that?" he asked, smirking. His hands were on Thomas's head, holding him in place so their eyes stayed locked. He let his aura flow out slowly, like honey, totally engulfing Thomas until his eyes were glazed over and his face was lax with pleasure and euphoria. 

"Yeah." Thomas replied lowly. Even during sex, the guy was so damn quiet. Mickey suppressed a sigh. Would it be too much to ask for a little excitement? A little intensity? Oh well, better get on with it. 

"Good." Mickey murmured, rolling his hips a little faster. He gasped as Thomas's cock grazed his prostate, his hips stuttering. "Turn your head." he muttered, sliding one hand down to rest on his chest, the fingers on the other hand twisting in his hair, tugging tightly. 

Thomas complied immediately, already well under Mickey's spell, cleaving to his will without hesitation. He cocked his head to the side, groaning low in his throat as Mickey bounced in his lap. Mickey smirked, dipping his head down. He inhaled deeply. Thomas smelled good enough. Like sawdust and bee pollen. He wondered idly if his family had a hive on their farm as he finally sunk his teeth into Thomas's neck. The blood flowed freely from the wound, filling Mickey's mouth. He growled, his grip on Thomas's hair tightening as he swallowed, being careful not to spill a drop. He didn't want any evidence of this interlude. 

"Oh my...." Thomas sighed, his hands slipping from Mickey's hips, landing with a muted thud at his sides. 

Mickey was so lost in the pleasure of it all. The delicious blood flowing down his throat, the cock deep inside him. He was going to come, and it was going to be incredible. He quickened his movements, his body bouncing on top of Thomas, his mouth working his neck. Thomas groaned, and Mickey felt him find release inside Mickey's body. Mickey didn't even need to touch himself, the immense pleasure of feeding coupled with the delicious friction inside him was enough. He pulled off Thomas's neck, throwing his head back with a gasp as he came hard all over Thomas's chest. 

He was so consumed with ecstasy, he failed to notice they were no longer alone. 

A thunderous roar shattered the private moment. Mickey's eyes shot open as he struggled to climb out of Thomas's lap. Before he could stand, a hand gripped the back of his neck tightly, dragging him to stand before tossing him like a rag doll into the far wall. He hit with a painful crack, sliding to the floor in a naked heap. 

"You fucking faggot!" His father roared, descending on him quickly. Terry crossed the room lightening fast, tossing an end table into the record player. The disc skipped, and an eerie loop "now and then, when i see her face.' echoed through the room, over and over. Mickey sat up, dazed and confused, covering his face the in defense as his Terry started raining down blows on him. 

"Dad!" Mickey cried, desperately trying to protect his body as a booted foot connected with his ribs. "It's not what you think." 

What a stupid thing to say....

Thomas was up on his feet, still slow and sluggish from the feeding and the mezmerization. He swayed on his feet, moving to grab his discarded pants. 

Terry whipped around at the sound of Thomas's footsteps. He halted his assault on his son, pressing his boot into Mickey's chest to keep him pinned to the floor. He turned his hard gaze onto Thomas, baring his teeth menacingly. "You sit the fuck down." he growled. Thomas complied immediately, Terry's power of suggestion much stronger than his son's. 

Terry watched Thomas sit down, his eyes full of fear and confusion. Once he was sure the little faggot wasn't going to be a problem, he turned his attention back to his traitorous ass reamer of a son. He knelt down next to Mickey's crumpled body, grabbing him by his hair and delivering several hard punches to his already bloody face. 

Mickey's eyes were swollen shut, and his nose felt broken. Blood was pooling in his mouth, dripping down his throat, causing him to cough, splattering crimson all over the wall next to him. He raised his hands weakly, batting at Terry's rageful face as some pathetic last attempt to save his sorry life. 

Terry hit him again, his fist connecting with the side of Mickey's head so hard he blackout out for a moment. He tipped sideways as Terry released him, hitting the floor once more. A pool of his own blood formed around his swimming head. He forced his eyes open as he rolled on his back, confused as to why Terry had abandoned his assault. When he looked, he was horrified to see Terry had produced a huge knife seemingly out of thin air and was making his way over to a still paralyzed Thomas. 

"You think you can come into my home, MY HOME, and engage in this disgusting behavior?" He screamed, spit flying from his mouth, waving the blade wildly as he closed in on Thomas. "You disgust me. Fucking faggots. Makes me sick. Well guess what, homo? Fucking my son is the last thing you'll ever do in your miserable, cock sucking life." Terry's hand flew out so fast, all Mickey saw was a blur of movement and the reflection of the blade as it sliced through the air. 

Thomas made no noise when Terry plunged the blade into his throat. He didn't even move to defend himself, Terry's hold on his mind was that strong. Mickey watched through tear filled eyes as Terry twisted the knife, splitting Thomas's throat wide open. A garbled moan slipped past his lips as he writhed under Terry's assault. Blood was everywhere now. Soaking Thomas and Terry, seeping into the couch, dripping off the sofa and pooling on the floor below. 

Terry stabbed Thomas again and again, rage radiating off his body as hateful slurs poured out of his mouth. Thomas's chest and stomach were a gaping wound by the time Terry was satisfied. His intestines were bulging out of his abdomen, puddling in his lap where Mickey sat only moments ago. Mickey's stomach churned as he tried to sit up, tried to run, but he was disoriented and dizzy from the beating he had taken, and all he could do was scramble backwards on his hands, slipping in his own blood until his back hit the far wall of the room. 

Terry finally abandoned Thomas's corpse, turning on his son once more. "I hope this ass fucking was worth it, faggot, cuz you are about to experience suffering you have never fathomed." Terry's words were spoken so lowly, so casually. 

Mickey was paralyzed by fear. 

This was it. His father was going to kill him. Mickey always suspected this day would come. He just didn't anticipate being his own fault. 

Stupid. So fucking stupid. Why the hell did Mickey bring Thomas here? It's his fault the boy is dead. It's his fault Thomas is lying on Mickey's couch, disemboweled with his dick still out. His heart broke for that boy.

Mickey killed him, just as surely as if he held the knife himself. 

And now Mickey was going to die as well. All because he couldn't control his basest desires. His father was right, he was an abomination. He was a faggot. And now he would lose his life because of it. 

Terry glared down at him, gripping him by the hair and pulling him to his knees. Mickey winced, his whole body aching with the movement. 

Terry put the knife to Mickey's throat, applying just enough pressure to break the skin. Mickey closed his eyes, not wanting his father's hateful eyes to be the last thing he ever saw. 

"Look at me, faggot." Terry growled. Mickey forced his eyes open, unable to disobey, even now. Terry was smirking at him, his eyes so full of hate and disgust, Mickey's stomach rolled, his shame intensifying tenfold. "I'm going to cut your fucking head off." Terry said conversationally, still smiling. "Then I'm going to cut your heart out. I'm going to leave your body for the crows, and laugh my fucking ass off as I watch them pluck your eyes out, gnaw off your disgusting faggot dick. You're no son of mine." with that, Terry pressed the blade harder against Mickey's neck. Mickey could feel blood seeping from the wound, dripping down his chest. 

"And you're a sorry excuse for a father." came a voice from behind Terry. Mickey glanced over, confused, just in time to see Iggy swing the ax, severing Terry's head clean off his body. 

What the fuck?  
What the fuck?

Terry's headless corpse collapsed forward onto Mickey's body, the knife falling to the floor with a clatter. 

Mickey howls. A high-pitched, gut wrenching scream tears from the pit of his stomach as he shoves Terry's corpse off his body. He's covered in blood now. His own, his father's. He's still dizzy, and so fucking confused. He backs up against the wall again, throwing his hands up to defend from the next blow. It can't be over. Terry is going to get up in a murderous rage and end him right now. 

"Mick." Iggy's quiet voice cuts Mickey off mid-scream. He drops his hands and stares at his brother through his swollen, bloody eyes. "It's okay. He's dead." 

Mickey glances down at Terry's body, and the finality of the moment hits him like a ton of bricks. His father is dead. 

And Mickey's alive.  
And he's naked. 

His dead lover is also naked, and his brother is standing over him, ax still in hand. Is Iggy going to finish what Terry started? Is Mickey's nightmare not over?

"It's not... we didn't." Mickey stammers, his eyes flitting between his brother and Thomas's body. 

"Mick." Iggy sighs, dropping the ax to the floor and walking over to his brother. "I don't care about all that. You gotta know that." he puts his hand out for Mickey to take. Mickey eyes it skeptically for a moment before taking it and letting his brother pull him to his feet. Mickey's hands instinctively move to cover his junk. Iggy smirks, scooping Mickey's pants off the floor and handing them to him. Mickey nods, taking the pants and slipping them on. He's got dried blood all over his body, but that shit doesn't matter at the moment. 

"Iggy." Mickey chokes, staring at the horrific mess in their living room. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't you fucking apologize for this." Iggy said, voice stern. "You did nothing wrong. You hear me? Nothing. Terry was an abusive prick, always has been. He fucking killed Joey. And I don't give a fuck who you bang, Mick. You're my baby brother. You gotta know that shit. Please tell me you know that." Iggy's voice broke towards the end of the sentence, his eyes pleading. 

Mickey nodded, unsure of what else to say. This whole chain of events left him adrift. 

What now?

As if reading his mind, his brother spoke again. "C'mon. Help me. We gotta cut Terry's heart out and burn the body. Then we can bury your... what was he to you?" Iggy asked, glancing over at Thomas's mutilated corpse. 

"Just a friend." Mickey replied quietly. Thomas was barely that, but he didn't feel like delving into the complicated reality of his relationship with the boy right now. Mickey feels guilt pool in his gut over all the negative thoughts he's had of Thomas. Boring or not, dispassionate or not, he was a person, and he was good to Mickey. 

And now he's dead. Because of Mickey. 

"Okay then." Iggy nodded, thankfully not pressing Mickey for details. "Are you cool to help with this?" he asked, noticing the far away, scared look in his little brother's eyes. 

"Yeah." Mickey nodded, leaning down and grabbing his shirt off the floor. He pulled it over his bloody torso before glancing over at his brother again. "It's my mess. I've got to clean it up." 

Iggy nodded, choosing not to comment on that. 

There was nothing else to say. 

 

***

 

"Holy fuck." Ian whispered, his eyes wide as he stared at Mickey. He had no idea what to say. What do you say to someone after a story like that? "I know being gay's not easy, but I've never dealt with something so horrific, and your own father no less." Ian shakes his head sadly, unable to comprehend the horror of Mickey's story.

"It was a long time ago." Mickey replied quietly, feeling open and exposed in a way he did not like. What Ian must think of him now. Mickey glosses over the fact that Ian just outed himself. Mickey doesn't mention that he knew Ian was gay already, that it was as easy for Mickey to see as Ian's red hair or green eyes. Or that he'd seen him going in and out of gay bars the entire time he was tailing him and his brother. That information he'll keep to himself.

Mickey's not sure what is going on with him. What could have possessed him to share so much with this man he just met. Stupid. So fucking stupid. 

"I am so sorry." Ian continues, placing his hand over Mickey's. Mickey is shocked by the action. Is Ian really offering him comfort? After hearing such a horrific story? After hearing how Mickey treated Thomas? How he caused his death? After hearing about how truly dangerous Mickey and his kind could be? 

How is this kid not running for the hills right now? 

"None of that shit was your fault." Ian said, his voice full of conviction. "You know that, right?" 

Mickey nodded, Iggy's long ago words echoing Ian's statement. Mickey knew logically that it wasn't his fault. But deep down, he still blamed himself. He wasn't sure if he'd ever not. Thomas is gone, forever. And it's because of Mickey's stupidity, and his pathetic excuse for a father. 

"I know." Mickey conceded, hanging his head. "It's just still crazy to me, even after all I've seen, how fast things can go sideways." he sighed. "Your whole existence can be thrown of it's axis in the blink of an eye." 

Ian nodded, certain in that moment he'd never heard a statement more true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> phew. that was intense. hope i didn't scare anyone away.


	4. Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after Lip's first turn, more secrets are exposed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one feels shorter than the previous chapters, but it serves a purpose, so bear with me please.
> 
> * also, there is a Big Lebowski reference in this chapter. if you've never seen that movie, check it out. it's flippin hilarious. *

After a long, heavy silence at the end of their last conversation, Mickey and Ian had moved from the living room up to the bedroom Ian would sleep in for the night. 

The room was well appointed, much like the rest of the house. A huge bed took up most of the space. An intricately carved headboard stood out against the paisley wallpaper. There was a large oak wardrobe on the far wall, across from a bay window with a cushioned seat built in. A book shelf stood by the closet, overflowing with hardcover books that look hundreds of year old. The room was quaint, and comfortable. 

"Sit." Mickey said, pointing toward the bed as he moved toward the wardrobe. He opened the doors and pulled out one of the drawers, producing a white tee shirt and a pair of grey sweats that were clearly going to be too small for Ian. 

"You keep spare clothes in all your guest rooms?" 

"This is Iggy's room." Mickey replied, tossing the clothes in Ian's face. Ian caught them with a chuckle. "He's not coming back tonight. I called him a while ago. He's gonna be out tracking your brother." 

Ian's eyes widened at the thought of Lip out there in the woods, running and killing shit, Iggy following him like some predator. 

"Don't worry. Iggy won't let anything happen to your brother." Mickey tried to assure him with a smile. How he continued to seemingly read Ian's mind was a conundrum.

Ian turned his back on Mickey as he pulled his shirt over his head. He could feel Mickey's eyes on him as he stripped, but chose to ignore that in favor of getting changed. 

"So, what happened after that, after Thomas died?" Ian asked, resuming their previous conversation even though he was keenly aware of how upset Mickey was. But Ian needing to know more. Ian wasn't sure how close Mickey had been to this Thomas person, but watching someone you know die like that was very traumatizing. 

Ian knew that from experience now. 

So he tried to steer the conversation away from the gory details of Thomas's death, and move the story along. He sat on the bed cross-legged, Mickey joined him after he also changed into something more comfortable. Mickey knelt down on the bed next to Ian, dropping down beside him, propped up on one elbow. 

"Well, we buried Thomas like Iggy said, cut Terry's black heart out of his chest, dismembered the body and burned it. That smell, I swear. You never forget it. Clung to my skin for weeks." Mickey shuddered, ignoring Ian's gobsmacked expression at his casual description of mutilating a corpse. "Anyway. When Mandy got home, we had a family meeting of sorts. We were going to have to move again. No way we could stay in Dorset when people noticed Thomas was missing. So we decided to go. That's when we ended up in Chicago for the first time." 

"Have you been here ever since?" Ian interrupted, curious. 

"Nah." Mickey shook his head. "We still move around a lot. Old habits, you know? But we acquired this house, and we come back a lot these days. The last time we were here was about ten years ago. The Order hasn't been in Chicago for decades, so we thought it was safe. But that was not the case..."

***

Chicago, Illinois, 2008

Mickey doesn't want to be here. He doesn't want to be out, walking the streets with his siblings. But Mandy is persistent, and what his little sister wants, she usually gets. 

They've been in Chicago for about ten years at this point. It's one of Mickey's favorite cities. He doesn't know why. It's just like any other, but he feels more at home here. Like there is a reason he's supposed to be in Chicago, even if he doesn't know what it is. 

They acquired a manor house about an hour outside the city limits. Even if they came into possession of it through unseemly means, the house was theirs now. And it felt more like a home than any other place ever had. 

If Mickey had his way, they'd never leave Chicago again.

But that was not to be, apparently. 

The siblings were walking down the street, on the way back to their car after seeing a movie. Why Mandy insisted they do these things was anyone's guess. They'd never gone out as a family while Terry was alive, unless it was to go on a killing spree or to commit some other felony. But since his father's demise, his sister had started insisting they do more 'normal' human things.

So they went to movies. Concerts. They went to fucking plays and sporting events. Hell, Mandy had even dragged them to an art exhibition not too long ago. 

Mickey goes because it makes her happy, and she deserves that after all she's been through. Her change was the hardest out of all the living siblings. She had really struggled with the suicide, and Terry had beaten her mercilessly while Mickey and Iggy watched on, horrified but unable to intervene. She had finally completed the act, after hours of crying and taking fists to the face. 

After her change, things did not get better for Mandy. She was worse that Mickey was at mesmerizing, in the beginning, and Mickey ended up having to kill her first few victims when they went batshit on her. She took that really hard, putting the weight of all those deaths squarely on her own shoulders. 

And then there was Terry. 

Terry abused all his kids. It's just who he was. He chained Joey to a post in the basement when he refused his Upirism. Mickey and his siblings had to watch him waste away for weeks. No food, no water. The first few days he screamed and cried, begging to be set free. After that, it was low moans and delirious muttering. And then, finally, silence. Terry had made all they younger siblings sit in the basement, watching their oldest brother go mad. The pain had been excruciating, and lack of water and food had brought on hallucinations. 

"You see this?" Terry had spat, grabbing Joey by his matted hair and dragging his head back until his eyes slipped open in terrified pain. Joey's eyes were unseeing, filled with blood from his latest beating. More dry blood was caked around his mouth and nose. His mouth hung open, revealing jagged, broken teeth. "This is what happens when you disobey me. When you go against the natural order of the world. We are killers, it is what we are born for. And if you are not willing to make the change, become Upir, this is your fate." he locked eyes with Mickey as he spoke. "You will obey." he growled, his arm flying up, knife in hand. He struck so fast, Mickey almost missed the whole thing. Before he knew what was happening, Terry had buried the knife in his brother's ribs, surely puncturing a lung. It was not a fatal wound, however, and Joey's suffering was sure to continue. 

It had gone on for weeks. Finally, mercifully, Joey died. Terry had made Mickey and his remaining brothers dismember Joey's corpse, even though there was no chance of him returning from the dead. He made them do it just to traumatize them, Mickey is sure of it. 

But none of these things compare to what Terry did to Mandy. Joey may be dead, but at least his suffering had ceased. 

Mandy's never ended. 

Terry was a monster, that much was clear to everyone that knew him, but no one knew better than his only daughter. Terry acted out every manner of perversion on his youngest child. Rape and torture, for hours at a time. He fed of Mandy's fear and pain. Her sorrow and anguish were his favorite sustenance. The brothers had an inkling that something was not right, but only after Terry's death did Mandy tell them the whole truth. She laid bare every facet of their father's depravity, and Mickey's blood had boiled. He wanted to dig up Terry's body, just to destroy it further. Decimate it until there was no trace left. Beheading and dismemberment were too good for that sick fuck. He wanted to annihilate the man. 

But it was too late.  
What's done is done. 

So now, Mickey and Iggy did what they could to make Mandy happy. Colin was gone, off on his own somewhere. He could not handle the fact that he had failed his younger siblings so grievously. Mickey hoped he'd come back, someday. It wasn't his fault, just like it wasn't Mickey's or Iggy's or Mandy's. 

It was Terry's fault and he was dead now. They were all free. 

Mickey would just like them to all be free together. 

He tried to push the negative thoughts to the back of his mind as he followed Mandy and Iggy down the street. 

"I just don't understand why he was so upset about a rug." Iggy said, scratching his head in confusion. "And why did he have two names?" 

"He didn't have two names." Mickey sighed, rolling his eyes. "His name was Jeff, like the rich dude, and that's how shit got all fucked up. But he liked to be called The Dude or whatever. Were you not paying attention at all?" Mickey should have known better than to bring his idiot brother to a movie like The Big Lebowski. The comedy was not complex, but Iggy just didn't have the brain capacity to grasp even the simplest details apparently. 

"But Mick," Iggy started, turning to face his brother. Mandy was looking back as well, rolling her eyes dramatically. Mickey smirked. Here comes another convoluted theory....

But the words never came. 

There was a sharp whistling noise over Mickey's shoulder, but before he could turn to see what it was, Iggy yelped painfully, his hands flying up to clutch at his chest. 

Mandy let go a blood curdling scream, but Mickey was lost. What the fuck? 

Iggy fell to the ground, a long black arrow sticking out of his chest. 

"Iggy!" Mickey cried, falling to his knees in front of his brother. "What the fuck. What the fuck." 

Mandy was still screaming, her eyes scanning the immediate area for the threat. "Mick, where the fuck did that come from?" she yelled, just as another arrow went flying by, clipping her on her forearm. "Ouch! Fuck." she yelled, her hand covering the wound as her head swiveled up and down the street. 

"Mandy, get the fuck down!" Mickey cried, using his free hand to pull on her leg. His sister fell to her knees on the sidewalk immediately, tearing her stockings in the process. She was still gripping her injured arm, blood seeping from between her fingers. 

Once they were all under somewhat of a cover, Mickey moved to hover over Iggy, checking his wound. The arrow was lodged in his left pec, but seemed to have miss any major organs. Not that it would kill him anyway. Someone was trying to slow them down, probably wanted to capture them all together. 

The Order. It had to be. 

"We gotta get outta here." Mickey said, hooking Iggy under the arms so he could drag him toward their car, which was only a few more steps away. Iggy gasped in pain, writhing in Mickey's grip. "Mandy! Get the keys out and start the car, god damn it. We need to get the fuck outta here." Mickey got to his feet, dragging Iggy as fast as he could. "Push with your legs, you idiot." he spat at his brother, who started shuffling his heels along the sidewalk to help Mickey drag him. 

Mandy got to the car just as Mickey heard the footsteps. 

Fuck.

"Hurry the fuck up, they're coming." Mickey called over his shoulder as he dragged his brother along, leaving a trail of blood in their wake. 

Just as Mandy jumped in the driver's seat and started the car, another series of arrows rained down on them. One shattered the back window of their Thunderbird, glass raining down on the Milkovich brothers as Mickey blindly flailed for the back door handle. He got the door open and helped his brother crawl into the back seat just as another arrow flew by, missing Mickey's throat by inches and landing on the ground next to his knee. "Shit, fuck. Get in." Mickey shoved his brother in the back seat and dove in on top of him, slamming the door shut behind them and covering Iggy's bleeding body with his own. "GO! GO! GO!" he screamed, and Mandy fucking floored it, careening away from the curb and swerving dangerously into traffic. 

Mickey dared to glance up out the busted back window. There was no one there. No car following, speeding behind them. No group of black clad monks running after their car, wielding crosses and melee weapons. Nothing to indicate the life and death struggle that had just gone down, except for his bleeding brother and the glass in his hair....

 

***

 

"What the fuck." Ian whispered. What else could he say? He thought Mickey's other stories were insane, and they certainly were, but being assaulted in the street by some ancient monster hunting squad was next level madness. "But how did you know it was them?" he asked, still unable to make the connection between a fucking arrow assault on the street, of all things, and this mythical Order that seemed so far out of the realm of reality. 

Mickey chuckled, shaking his head. He ran a hand over his mouth, lost in the memory. "When we got back to our house, we had to pull the arrow out of Iggy's chest. Remember how I told you it's really hard to kill Upirs?" 

"Yeah." Ian replied quietly, scanning his brain for the tidbit in the midst of the massive information dump Mickey has been subjecting him to. "Like, with how your dad used to cut your, uh, hands off, but you can just reattach them or whatever?" even saying out loud felt weird. 

"Sort of." Mickey replied. "I mean, they actually grow back. Hurts like a motherfucker." Mickey chuckled, but clammed right up when he noticed how green Ian looked. "Look, the point is, Iggy was real hurt, but it wasn't fatal. We got him back to the house, removed the arrows and cleaned him up as best we could. Best medicine for my brother is whiskey anyway." Mickey smiled. "But once I got the arrow outta him, I noticed that the shaft of the arrow was covered in runes and symbols belonging to The Order. Once I knew for sure they were in Chicago, and trailing us, we bolted. Packed up that night and hit the fucking road. They were onto us, and I wasn't going to let those archaic holy roller assholes kill my family. We left the city and haven't been back since. Until now that is." 

"Why?" Ian asked, reclining on his back, unconsciously scooting closer to Mickey is the process. 

"Why what?" Mickey replied lowly, turning on his side so he was leaning right over Ian's face. He was so close in fact, that Ian had a hard time concentrating on anything besides the color of Mickey's eyes. They were so blue, but so many different shades. It was every variation in existence, all swirled together in an endless azul pool. 

Ian didn't know how long he'd been trapped in Mickey's eyes, but when Mickey raised his eyebrows and waved a tattooed hand in front of his face, he flushed scarlet and glanced away. God, he's such an idiot. Can't maintain for shit. Besides, he should not be feeling attracted to Mickey in the first fucking place. He barely knew him, and what he did know was terrifying. 

"I'm sorry. What?" 

"I said why what? You asked me 'why'..." Mickey prompted, just as confused as Ian. 

"Oh!" Ian replied, remembering himself. "Why did you come back to Chicago? If it's clearly still not safe, and The Order is still active, why did you come back here? It seems so dangerous." 

"It is dangerous. But we honestly believed The Order had been disbanded." Mickey said, his eyes roaming Ian's face as he spoke. "As to why we came back now, that's a little tricky. I'm going to tell you, but you gotta give me your word you're not going to laugh at me, or think I'm batshit crazy. Okay?" 

Ian rolled over so he was up on his elbow too, his face only inches apart from Mickey's. His eyes were bright and teasing, and Mickey thought it was probably the best thing he'd seen in decades. Ian's smile lit up his whole face. Hell, the whole god damn room. "How am I supposed to promise something like that? After everything that's happened tonight." 

"Just fucking do it, asshole." Mickey laughed, shoving Ian lightly. 

It felt like they had known each other forever. Mickey didn't know what to do with that. 

"Okay, okay." Ian conceded, still smiling. "Promise." 

"I had a dream." Mickey said, averting his eyes. 

Ian's smile widened, but he wisely kept his mouth shut, waiting for Mickey to continue. 

Mickey cleared his throat, feeling stupid now that he was saying it. He didn't know what it was about Ian that had him spilling all his shit, but it felt right, and he was old enough now to know that if something felt like the right thing to do, it usually was. "The dream was vague, or at least I don't remember a lot of it. But I do remember feeling that I was needed back in Chicago. It was imperative that I get back here as soon as possible. Something big was going to happen, and I needed to be here for it. I do remember being in the forest. So when we got back here, I started wandering around Starved Rock park most nights. When I am there, it's easier for me to think. I can't really explain it. But when I'd go down there, I always felt like I was waiting for something..." Mickey trailed off, feeling more and more like a tool. Jesus, he sounded like one of the hippies from the 60s he used to drop acid with. But he soldiered on, because it felt like it was important Ian knew this. "I would wander through the forest, night after night, just gathering and processing my thoughts, but I felt I was always waiting for whatever I was looking for to make itself known. And then, I saw you." 

Ian's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak. Mickey, realizing his error too late, stammered to correct his mistake. "I saw you and your brother, and Billy. I heard the young wolves approaching, and I knew if they got anywhere near you guys, it'd be a god damn blood bath. So I ran. But I was too late. Too late to save your friend Billy from death, and too late to save your brother from his fate." Mickey sighed, closing his eyes tight. "I'm sorry, Ian." 

It was said so lowly, Ian almost missed it, but as soon as the words slipped past Mickey's lips, Ian's whole body flushed warm. 

"Mickey." Ian said quietly. "Mickey, please look at me." 

Mickey pried his eyes open to find Ian staring down at him with this soft, fond expression on his face. "You saved my life that night. And my brother's. It is very sad that Billy didn't make it, but if it weren't for you, we'd all be dead." 

"But I'm stronger than those filthy beasts. Smarter." Mickey insisted, before reconsidering. "I'm sorry, you're brother's not stupid, of filthy." 

Ian smiled sadly, thinking of Lip out there in the wildness somewhere. He still can't wrap his mind around it. He wonders how long it's going to take, accepting this bizarre new reality. 

"The point I was trying to make is that you don't have anything to be sorry for. You did something amazing for total strangers. That makes you a hero." 

"Ian, jesus christ, I'm a fucking monster. Like, legit, real world demon. You know that, right? Have you been listening at all?" Mickey could feel himself getting red. He was hot all over. "I killed two teenagers because it's not safe to have too many monsters in the neighborhood. Monster hunters, The Order. We have to keep a low profile. I don't want you putting me up on some pedestal like I'm a white knight vampire. This isn't fucking Twilight." 

Mickey decided it was best not to mention the pull that had lead him to Ian. That strange, all consuming need that drew him to the other man that night. The feeling that still pulses under his skin at this very moment. He's bared his soul enough for one night. Not to mention he's pretty sure Ian's hit his threshold for insane supernatural rantings for one twenty four hour period. 

"I know that." Ian replied, rolling his eyes. "I'm under no illusion that you are altruistic or that your motives were benevolent. I'm just saying, you did something really amazing for me and my brother. Thank you. I don't know what I would do if I lost Lip." 

Mickey glanced down at his hands, then back up into Ian's face. "Well, then, you're welcome." 

Ian smiled, then yawned. 

"It's really late, Ian. Why don't you try to get some sleep." Mickey said, taking in the other man's haggard expression and hazy eyes. 

"Do you sleep?" Ian asked instead of replying to Mickey's suggestion. 

"I do. When I'm tired enough." 

"Will you stay with me?" 

Mickey did not expect that. What kind of creature is this Ian Gallagher? After all he's been through, after all he's seen and heard that night, he wants Mickey to stay with him? Mickey is certain anyone else would be desperate to get away. Mickey's not a nice person. He's not even a person. Not really, not anymore. He's someone to be feared. 

And Ian is afraid, very much so. That much is painfully obvious. 

But he's not scared of Mickey. 

He's afraid to be alone. 

And Mickey, the man who has known nothing but fear for his entire life, is willing to do about anything in that moment to take away Ian's. 

"Sure." he smiles down at Ian as he gets comfortable under the covers. "And in the morning we'll use that 'find my pup' app and go collect your brother. He's probably going to need a flea bath." 

Ian glares at him, and Mickey loses it laughing. "Too soon?" 

"Fuck you." Ian shoot back, but he's smiling. Mickey counts that as a win. He rolls over and shuts off the light before laying back down next to Ian. He gives the other man a wide breadth in the bed, laying there in the dark for a long time listening to Ian's heart beat. It's loud in the room, or at least it is to Mickey. 

Mickey shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be sharing a bed with Ian. 

Mickey's come a long way in his years as full Upir. He can completely control his thirst at all times now, which is quite an accomplishment. But being so close to Ian is fucking up his resolve. Ian is laying in bed, on his back, one hand resting on his chest, fingers splayed over his heart. Mickey leans close, inhaling deeply. Ian smells so good. Like salt and tobacco and the whiskey he drank earlier. It's incredible. 

But he controls himself. He controls his thirst, and he control his lust. Because no matter how good Ian smells or sounds, or how amazing his body is, Mickey just can't go there. So he just cuddles a little closer, deciding to soak up as much of this as he can get, in the short time he can get it. 

He can hear Ian's pulse throbbing. He can hear him swallowing in his sleep. He can here his breath catch right before he mutters out some unintelligible word, lost in his dreams. 

Ian is so alive. His whole being is singing to Mickey. A symphony for only Mickey's ears, and Mickey wants to drown in the melody. 

Mickey closes his eyes, lost in the rhythm of Ian's slowing heart until he's sure the other man is asleep. 

Mickey's mind is reeling. What the hell did he get himself into? Insinuating himself into this family's drama like it's any of his business. Is this what brought him back to Chicago? Is this strange attraction to Ian part of some bigger happening Mickey can't see yet? What is he supposed to do about the Order being back, and how is he supposed to protect the Gallaghers and his own family from the long reach of the cult? 

He has no answers for any of these questions, but when his eyes slip back open and he glances over toward a sleeping Ian, he knows he's going to have to figure it out and fast. 

Because he'll be damned for real this time if he lets anything happen to that man. 

The thought feels strange in his head, but completely natural at the same time. 

Mickey sighs quietly. 

Yeah, he's fucked. 

 

***

 

Ian wakes up alone. Before he fully comes back to himself, he's sure he'd had the strangest dream of his entire life. He's going to have to talk to his shrink about his meds. Dreams like that are not normal. 

Then he cracks his eyes open, and reality comes crashing down around him. 

Light filters in through the bay window in Iggy's bedroom, casting the room in a warm yellow glow. 

Shit. He's at Mickey's house. 

Which means Lip is out in the wilderness somewhere, scared and alone. 

"Hey." 

The voice startles Ian and he gasps, twisting quickly in the bed. His long legs get tangled in the bedclothes as he goes tumbling off the side of the mattress, landing on the hardwood floor with a groan. 

"You are majestically graceful in the morning." Mickey chuckles from above him. Ian glances up, and Mickey is hovering over him, arms crossed over his chest, smirk on his face. 

"Excuse me for being a little jumpy." Ian huffed. "For a second, I thought I dreamed it all." 

Mickey's face softened immediately. "Sorry, man. No such luck." he offered his hand to Ian, who took it, letting Mickey pull him to his feet. "C'mon. I put some more of Iggy's clothes out for you. You can grab a shower in the bathroom down the hall. Mandy is in the kitchen already. We don't really do breakfast, but she's got coffee at least." 

"You guys drink coffee?" Ian asked, rubbing his eye with a fist. God, he doesn't feel like he slept at all. 

"Fuck yeah we do." Mickey laughed. "Hope you like it strong. Mandy makes fucking rocket fuel." with that he left Ian by himself. 

He stripped down to his boxers, tossing Iggy's clothes on the floor by the bureau, since he didn't see a hamper anywhere. 

He walked down the hall, passing a few closed doors before he came upon a door on the left that was slightly ajar. 

The bathroom was small, but clean. Cobalt blue tiles covered the walls, with a pedestal sink and claw-foot tub. The back wall was dominated by an antique dark wood cabinet, with open shelves on top. The shelves were filled with exotic looking toiletries, perfumes, and bath salts. Ian cleaved to his curiosity, looking in the lower cabinet, mildly disappointed to only find towels. He walked over to the sink, glancing at himself in the mirror. 

Jesus, he looked like utter dog shit. His skin was sallow, and he had deep, dark circles under his eyes. His hair was greasy and matted, his usually vibrant green eyes were cloudy and dull. He turned away from the mirror, a little creeped out with what he saw. 

There was a large circular window above the toilet, and Ian could see the sun already high in the sky. 

How long did he sleep? 

Is Lip okay? 

Jesus Christ. He needed to find his brother. 

But Mickey didn't say anything. If something had gone wrong, surely he'd have heard from Iggy, right? Damn it, why didn't he ask? 

Ian had to make this shower quick. He had to find his brother. 

He stripped his boxers off, leaving them on the floor before leaning over and turning on the shower. As the water heated up, his thoughts went back to Lip. What had happened to him, out there all alone? Surely a werewolf has to be the apex predator around here, right? Could he have gotten hurt? Broken a leg? Hell, he could have gotten caught in a bear trap or something. 

Ian's mind was off and running to some very dark places. He jumped in the shower, eager to get to Lip. 

Once he was clean and feeling more awake, he went back to Iggy's room, where Mickey had apparently put out some clothes for him to wear. A basic black thermal and jeans that are way too big for Ian. He dressed fast, combing his fingers through his wet hair before making his way downstairs.

He found Mickey and Mandy in the kitchen, which he did not see the night before. The room was expansive and bright, with large square windows spanning the entire far wall. There were tall white cabinets, a big butcher block island in the center of the room, and all white antique looking appliances. It looked like something out of a design magazine. 

Ian wondered, and not for the first time, how the Milkovich kids acquired this house. 

On second thought, he probably didn't want to know. 

"Oh hey." Mandy said, noticing Ian hovering near the entrance to the kitchen. "Good morning." 

"Morning." Ian said, taking an offered cup of coffee from Mandy before sliding into a stool between the siblings at the island. "Did you guys hear anything about Lip?" 

"We did." Mickey nodded. "He's fine." 

Ian let out a relieved sigh, his whole body relaxing. "Oh thank god." 

"Told you, right?" Mickey smiled. He liked being able to set Ian's mind at ease. He knows all too well what it feels like to worry about a sibling in mortal danger. "Iggy's got him at a motel near the Edgebrook Woods. I guess Iggy had quite a night trailing him all over the forest over there. Pissed he had to run all night. But it was best that he didn't bring one of the cars. I'm sure we'll be hearing about that for weeks. But, as far as first turns go, it went alright. Iggy says Lip is a little beat up, and he's been puking up raw rabbit for an hour, but no broken bones, and Iggy didn't smell any human blood on him, so..." Mickey trailed off as Ian's face grew pale once more. "It all worked out just fine." 

Ian huffed out a tired laugh. "Is all this what you consider 'just fine'?" 

Mickey and Mandy exchanged a look before shrugging simultaneously. 

"Look at it this way, Ian." Mandy said, surprising him. Ian had only just met the woman last night, but she spoke to him in a way that made him feel like they'd known each other for ages. "Many times, a new werewolf doesn't make it past the first turn. It's frightening, and painful, and the wolf doesn't know where to go or what to do to stay safe until the sun comes up. Especially near the city." 

Ian nodded, listening intently. Mickey's family may be curious, and a little scary, but they were a wealth of knowledge of all things supernatural, it seems. 

"That's why we brought you out here. Our estate is surrounded by woods on all sides. Your brother ran about seventy five miles last night. Like Mick said, he's a little battered, but for a lone wolf to run that far during his first turn, and not hurt anyone or get spotted by any people, that's a big deal." 

Ian smiled, relieved. Of course Lip would be okay. Anything he does, he does well. Ian should have known turning into a shapeshifter would be no different. 

Ian huffs a small laugh at the thought. Every muscle in his body relaxes into the knowledge that his brother is alive and well, and they will be together again soon. 

"So, we can go whenever." Mickey says, standing. He walks his coffee cup over to the sink and places it among a few shot glasses and random silverware to be washed later. "You have everything you need? I don't even remember if you brought your phone or anything." 

Oh shit.  
Fuck.  
How could Ian forget? 

His routine had been shot to smithereens. The last month Ian's been having a hard time keeping his rigid schedule of medication and therapy. He's had so much on his mind, been under so much stress. Worrying about Lip, and the stalker, dealing with the trauma of Billy's death. 

But during all that, he has never forgotten to take his meds. 

And last night, in the chaos of the full moon, Lip's turn, and all staying at the Milkovich house, Ian totally forgot all about his meds. 

Shit.  
Fuck.

"I need to go home before we pick up Lip." Ian says, suddenly very anxious. He needs to get his medication. He has panic attacks if he's too late with doses. "I need to go right now." 

"Can't we just swing by after we get them? I mean, are you waiting for an important call or something? This isn't the kind of thing you tweet about, you know." Mickey snarked. "I think your phone can wait until after we collect our wayward brothers. Iggy had to chase your brother all over the forest last night, I'm sure he's on the verge of a bitchy meltdown." 

"No." Ian insisted, shaking his head violently. "I need to go home now." he took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He is not going to lose it now, after all the shit he's been through. He's not going to lose his shit over something as simple as forgetting a couple doses of his meds. 

He's also not going to tempt fate anymore. 

"Please." he insists. "Please take me home first." 

Mickey watches Ian's face carefully. He knows something's up. In the weeks he was tailing the Gallagher brothers, he's seen Ian going into more doctor's offices and pharmacies than a man his age should have to. 

But he doesn't smell sick. Sick and dying people have a very distinct odor. Almost like they are decaying already. The walking dead. 

Ian doesn't smell like that at all. He smells like clean earth and fresh mountain air. He smells like warm linens drying on a line in the summer sun. 

The last thing he smells like is death. 

So that leaves one thing. 

Ian's got something wrong with his mind. Which is sad. And dangerous. The last thing Mickey needs is to drag an unstable kid into a fight with The Order. 

Whatever is wrong with Ian, it only makes Mickey's instinct to protect him even stronger. The feeling is so foreign to Mickey, he doesn't have the first clue what to do with it, except follow it. 

"No problem." Mickey replies. He locks eyes with his sister, silently telling her to keep her damn mouth shut. She nods almost imperceptibly, standing quickly. 

"I'll be in the car." Mandy says over her shoulder as she moves through the hall. "We taking the Thunderbird or the Impala?" 

"Fuck no. Neither." Mickey said, tossing his sister a set of keys. "The Honda. We don't need to draw any more attention to ourselves." 

Mandy huffed, but said nothing, leaving the room. 

Mickey rolls his eyes heavenward. 

This is going to be a long drive....

 

***

 

Mickey keeps his eyes on the road as they make their way down some long winding back road. The hotel Iggy found for him and Lip is really out of the way, along some deserted county road along the border of the Edgebrook Forrest Preserve. 

Mandy is in the passenger seat, reading some story on her tablet, and Ian is passed out in the back seat, snoring softly. 

They had stopped at the Gallagher house on their way out of Chicago. That had been quite the scene. Ian had insisted on going in alone, leaving the siblings in the car to wait. What was supposed to be a two second trip to retrieve his phone and whatever other secret thing he desperately needed, turned into a half hour long fight in the street in front of the house between Ian and his older sister. 

Fiona. Mickey had seen her around during his reconnaissance of the brothers Gallagher. She seemed to be the matriarch of this family of pseudo-orphans, and was clearly used to being in charge. 

She had screamed at Ian, loudly, on the sidewalk for all to see. Demanding to know where he'd been, where he took their very sick brother, where Lip was now. Asking over and over if Lip had been arrested, and if Ian was taking his medication. 

Bingo. 

Mickey knew it. Ian has some ailment of the mind, and his sister thinks this disorder is contributing to Ian's elusive answers. 

Ian had lost his cool in spectacular fashion. He told Fiona off using every swear word Mickey had ever heard in his long and colorful life, storming back to the car without a second look back at his flabbergasted sister, his backpack swinging from his clenched fist like a pendulum.

Fiona had stood on the sidewalk, arms crossed over her chest as she watched them drive away until Mickey turned a corner and she disappeared behind a fence. 

Ian had apologized to them for the scene, blaming his outburst on the stress of their current situation. That made sense, of course, but Mickey was quite certain there was more to it than that. 

But he let it go, for the moment, turning on the radio instead and aiming the car toward the Motel Edgebrook. 

Ian had fallen asleep almost instantly, the hum of the car and the rhythmic thud of the tires on the bumpy road lulling him into unconsciousness. 

The car was silent for all of ten minutes before Mandy dropped her tablet into her lap and glanced over at her brother. 

"Alright." she said lowly. "Enough of this shit. What are you doing?" 

"Driving." came Mickey's immediate answer. 

Mandy sighed, rolling her eyes. "Don't play dumb with me, asshole." she said. "What are you doing getting involved in this drama with the ginger and his dog?" 

Mickey clenched his teeth, biting back a rude retort. He knew what his sister meant, and he knew she was frightened by the apparent return of The Order. And here was Mickey, throwing himself right in the middle of a fight that was not his. 

If it was in fact The Order that was after Philip Gallagher, that had nothing to do with Mickey and his family. The Milkoivich children had been doing a very good job at eluding The Order for decades. Mickey had honestly thought they'd outlived the cult. 

But that does not seem to be the case. Mickey has made a grave error in his assumption. 

And his sister is right. He has no business getting involved with Ian and Lip's problems. 

But if he doesn't help them, who will? Mickey's mind is filled with images of Ian and Lip kneeling before black clad monks moments before they are beheaded with a ceremonial sword. Mickey has seen The Order execute monsters before, and he refuses to watch that happen to Ian and his lupine brother. 

But how does he explain that to his sister? Should he tell her about his curious attraction to Ian? The magnetic pull Mickey feels deep inside whenever Ian is near? His body is thrumming with it at this exact moment. It radiates just under his skin, spindly tingles spider-webbing throughout his torso. 

No. 

Mandy doesn't need to know any of that shit. 

"If not us, who, Mandy?" he says instead, glancing over at his sister. "These boys have no defense against The Order. Are you honestly trying to tell me we should just leave them to be slaughtered?" 

"Again, how is it our problem?" Mandy replied, her voice rough with irritation. She just doesn't understand why Mickey would willingly put their whole family in the cross hairs of The Order to protect someone he doesn't even know. 

"I was there." Mickey said quietly, his eyes flitting toward Ian's sleeping form curled up in the back seat. "When Lip was attacked by the wolf. I watched their friend die. I killed the wolves myself. I can't help but feel responsible for them." 

"Mick." Mandy whispered, shocked. "Why didn't you tell us? What were you doing out there?" 

Mickey thought back to that night. The pregnant moon hanging low in the sky, the image of Ian laughing by the fire, his face lit up by the glowing flames. The sound that reverberated through the forest when the wolf snapped Billy's neck with it's teeth. Mickey grimaced, his hands tightening on the wheel as he made his way down the road. 

"I didn't say anything because I knew what you would think." Mickey replied. "I knew what you were going to say. And you'd be right. We don't do this. We don't get involved in this shit. And normally, Lip would be dead by now. I would have killed him myself that night. It's just the way it has to be." Mickey kept his voice low, glancing back at Ian sleeping again. "But I just couldn't this time, Mands." he sighed, knowing he had to tell his sister the whole truth. Fuck it, he decided. Mandy was going to find out sooner or later. "Listen, I was drawn to the forest that night. Like DRAWN, if you follow me." 

"Mick, you don't mean...." Mandy whispered, glancing back at Ian, who was still sleeping fitfully. There's no way what Mickey's saying can be true. 

"I'm not sure." Mickey said quickly. "But it happened. I followed my instincts and ended up at their campsite. The feeling, I can't explain it, Mandy. It's like my whole body is alive with this energy. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I felt anything? Even when I was living, I never experienced anything like this. And it didn't stop once I saved Lip and Ian. It's still there, burning just under my skin, whenever he's near me." 

Mandy was speechless. She has heard of the Pull, but never once has she seen it in reality. She's still not convinced that this is what's happening now. The Pull is just an old wives tale handed down among Upir children to ease the sting of being a blood thirsty killer. 

The old texts speak of a pull between an Upir and their fated mate. It can be another Upir, or a human. It is said that the Upir will be unable to resist the pull. The desire to be near their mate will be so overwhelming, the Upir will be taken over by the need until it is satiated. It's simpler if the Pull leads you to another Upir. You can just claim them and go on with your life. But with humans, the story ends one of two ways. Either the Upir claims their fated as their mate, turns them, and they live happily ever after....or the Upir kills the object of their desire, consumes them, and the need is met that way. 

Mandy looks over at Mickey, unable to even form a sentence. There's no way Mickey is right about this. He must be confused. His gay brain has gone haywire after being alone so long. Of course, she understands the appeal, Ian is a very attractive man. But dragging her and Iggy into this giant mess over Mickey's misguided boner is just not cool.

"You know The Pull is a fairy tale, right Mick?" she says quietly. She doesn't want to dismiss her brother's feelings, but this situation is too dangerous to mince words. "I mean, I get it, he's hot, but you can't go up against the fucking Order over some spurious crush." 

"Mandy, fuck off." Mickey groaned. "I never said it was The Pull. I don't know what the fuck it is. All I do know is that I couldn't ignore it, and I wasn't about to stand by and watch a dirty fucking werewolf tear Ian to shreds. If you don't understand that, then please kindly keep your god damn opinions to yourself." 

Mandy huffed, opening her mouth to argue back, but Mickey cut her off.

"You don't want to be involved, you don't have to be. I can drop you off at the airport. You can go to the house in the Sierra Nevadas. Hell, go all the way to London if you want. Get as far away from this mess as you deem fit. But I can't let them face The Order on their own. Whether or not this thing with Ian is The Pull is irrelevant. I can't leave them to be slaughtered." 

Mandy smiled at her brother. She can't remember a time when he'd been so passionate about anything. The lives of all the Milkovich children had been hard, but Mickey had always had it toughest. Even after Terry was put down and was no longer demeaning and torturing him every chance he got, Mickey still never got a moment's peace.

Mickey is not the oldest living brother, but he's always been the smartest. He's always been the leader of their clan. Ever since Colin left, it's been the three youngest against the world, with Mickey at the helm. 

Mandy never stops to think of how that must weigh on him. Keeping them alive and safe. Keeping them moving from place to place when shit got too hot. Mickey took care of everything. From mundane things like keeping the cars gassed and the bills paid, to more intense things like making sure the bodies would never be found when one of them slipped. 

Mickey was their rock. But sometimes he got lost in the shuffle of their chaotic existence. 

So even if this thing with the Gallagher brothers was a huge mistake that amounted to nothing but even more trouble, Mandy was going to stick by her brother and see it through to the end. 

"I want to help Mick." Mandy said, giving her brother a reassuring smile. 

Mickey sighed in relief. He didn't want Mandy to stay if she didn't want to, but he was immensely grateful that she was going to. He had a feeling he was going to need all the help he could get. 

 

***

 

The motel is one of those old roadside things. Eight doors in a long line. Grimy windows with crooked flower boxes hanging below them, full of dirt and dead weeds. Mickey walked up to the door with a tarnished brass 8 on it and knocked. 

The door flew open and Iggy was standing there, looking haggard and tired. 

"It's about fucking time." Iggy groused, shouldering past Mickey and storming toward the car. He shot Ian a glare on his way past. "Your brother's kind of a dick." he muttered as he walked by. 

Ian followed Mickey into the hotel room. The inside was just as dated and dirty as the outside. Faded floral wallpaper and stained plaid comforters clashed so bad it hurt Ian's eyes to look at it. 

Lip was sitting on the bed, dressed in what looked like Salvation Army clothes. His face was bruised and he had cuts and abrasions all over his bare arms. Ian doesn't even want to think about what the rest of his body looks like. 

Ian closes the distance, moving to touch his brother's shoulder, but Lip stands quickly, moving around Ian to leave the room. He doesn't look at Ian or Mickey as he storms toward the car. 

Ian sighs, feeling tears prickling in his eyes. Mickey tentatively reaches out, running a tattooed had along Ian's arm gently before sliding up his forearm to grip his shoulder. 

"He'll be okay." Mickey says quietly. Ian doesn't respond. He just shrugs Mickey off and follows his brother to the car. 

Mickey holds in a sigh. He has to remember how scary this must be for Ian and his brother. He can't let his own feelings get in the way of helping them. 

Mickey follows back to the car, sliding into the driver's seat and starting the engine. 

The ride back to Chicago is painfully, awkwardly silent. Mandy sits in the front, her face in her tablet, never looking up except the change the radio station. Ian and Lip are seated in the back, their postures mirroring each other. They both have their arms crossed over their chests, heads leaning up against the widow, staring out into the wilderness as it whipped by in a blur. Poor Iggy is squished in the middle, muttering angrily under his breath about Mandy's refusal to relinquish shotgun. 

Mickey didn't know what to say, or if there was anything to say at all. Lip was obviously having a hard time coming to terms with his new reality, and Mickey has a feeling that being around three vampires isn't helping ease is anxieties. 

Mandy ends up breaking the silence about forty five minutes into the ride, surprising Mickey immensely with her words. 

"So, I heard from Kate." she says, not looking up from her tablet. 

Mickey's head whips over quickly. "Katie Martin?" he asks. He didn't even know they still spoke. 

"Yeah. She thinks she might be able to help us." 

"Who's Katie?" Ian pipes up from the back seat. Relief floods Mickey's system at the sound of the other man's voice. It's so strange, how something so simple can alter Mickey's whole mood. When Ian is sullen or withdrawn, Mickey feels it deep in his bones. Like a wound that won't stop aching. It's disconcerting. But as soon as Ian's mood lifts, it's as if Mickey's own spirit has been plucked from the abyss. 

Yeah, Mickey's lost it. For real this time. 

Lip, for his part, maintains his silence. His face is hard and drawn as he glares out the window, ignoring the rest of the car's occupants. 

"Katie is a girl I hang out with sometimes." Mandy says, causing Mickey to burst out laughing. Ian and Lip share a look, but neither speak. 

"You mean she's a girl you fuck." Mickey stated bluntly, eliciting a chuckle from his brother. He glanced back at the Gallagher brothers in the rear view mirror. "Katie is an ex-nun. Her parents put her in the convent when they discovered her lesbian proclivities." 

"People still do that?" Ian balked. He would never understand how a parent could reject their child like that. It was the worst betrayal Ian could ever fathom. "Parents are supposed to support you. Love you." not that Ian would know anything about that. But Fiona had always done her best for him. Accepted him. 

Mandy laughed bitterly. "That's cute. Did you hear that Mick? Parents are supposed to love and support us." 

Mickey shook his head, keeping quiet on this topic. He'd talked about Terry enough in the past few days to last him decades. 

"I'm sorry." Ian said, silently berating himself. He obviously didn't mean it like that. He's such an idiot sometimes. 

"She's just fucking with you." Mickey said, glaring at his sister. 

Mandy giggled, shooting Ian an apologetic smile. "Anyway. Katie left the convent a couple years ago. But while she was there, she was a secretary at the archdiocese. She had access to all the old documents. File after file on exorcisms, witch burnings, zombie sightings, and of course, all the work of The Order. When she left the nunnery, she made copies of a lot of those files. So I think that if The Order is indeed back and all up in our business, it would be wise to consult with Kate, see if those documents could tell us who could possibly still be active around here." 

"That's a good idea." Mickey nodded, hitting his turn single to pull onto Ian's street. "I honestly can't think of any priests that could still be hunting. When was the last time we came face to face with an actual member of the Order? We had that close call in the 90's, but I mean, when was the last time we looked one of those collared fuckers in the eye?" 

Mandy thought about it for a moment before shrugging. 

"I don't know, the sixties?" Iggy piped up, tilting his head in thought. 

"Exactly." Mickey said. "So if this is the Order, we need to do some serious research. I don't know who they have now. We don't know their faces, their weaknesses. We are at a distinct disadvantage." he pulled the car over in front of the Gallagher house. He turned to face the brothers, who had twin looks of fearful disbelief on their faces. "Don't worry about all that right now." he said, smiling at Ian. Lip scoffed, but Mickey ignored him. "Go home, get some rest. My family and I will look into this problem. Would you give me your number?" he asked Ian, passing his phone over his shoulder. Ian moved to take it, but Lip batted it out of his hand. The device landed somewhere under the seat. Mickey was irritated, but not all that confused. He watched with mild amusement as Lip threw the door open and jumped out of the car before storming over to the other side, flinging Ian's door open as well and yanking his brother out of the car and onto the sidewalk. Mickey stayed in his seat as he and his siblings watched Lip drag Ian up the Gallagher steps, while Ian looked back, his face stricken. 

Mickey sighed, turning the engine over again and pulling away from the curb. 

"Mick, what are you doing?" his sister asked, turning in her seat to watch the Gallagher boys still arguing on the front porch of their run down house. "I thought you said..." 

"I know what I said, Mandy. And I'm not going to abandon them. Lip has just gone through some serious shit. He's never going to be the same. It's gonna take a minute for him to get his head around it. I don't want to push them anymore. Can you imagine what they must be feeling right now?" 

Mandy nodded. "Okay, Mick. Then what's the plan?" This was so unlike her brother, but she didn't have the heart to tear down this curious attraction anymore. Mandy's lived long enough now to know that things really do happen for a reason. So if Mickey feels the need to play savior to the Irish lost boys, Mandy is going to support him. Even if it means going up against The Order, once again. 

"Okay, so here's what I was thinking. We gotta turn the hunters into the hunted..." Mickey said, a small relieved smile splitting his lips as he spilled his ideas to his siblings as they made the journey back to their home. Iggy was especially excited by the prospect of a fight with the Order.

This whole thing had 'Huge Dangerous Mistake' written all over it. But if Mickey was all in, Mandy and Iggy would follow his lead. Because they are a family, and that's what they do for each other these days. 

Come what may, the Milkovich kids would stand together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after this week's episode of shameless, i was disheartened and very sad. sometimes i just want to quit this fandom and save what little bit of my heart i have left...
> 
> but then i think no, fuck that. the show won't give us what we deserve, so we have to give it to ourselves. we need to keep writing these stories as long as it feels right. because mick & ian deserve better than the shit shameless put them through. they deserve better, and so do we. 
> 
> thanks for sticking with me.


	5. The new normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Lip struggle to adjust to their new reality. They learn a little more about the Order that hunts them, and the people standing with them in the fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am still riding on my Endgame high. life is good, my friends. i will admit, my inspiration had taken a hit during this trying time in the fandom, but now that i got my happily ever after, i am reinvigorated, and ready to party. so let's do this thing.

Ian is dog tired. He groans as he shoulders his way into his family home. The house is dark, even though it's only a little after nine. Ian hangs his coat on a hook in the hall before making his way toward the kitchen. He needs a beer. He's not supposed to drink, it doesn't mix well with his meds, but he's been indulging a bit more these days. After all that's happened, he thinks he's allowed.

It's been three weeks since Lip's first turn. Ian has hardly seen him at all in that time. With class during the day, and working at night, Ian's been busy. And when Ian is home, Lip's not. 

Ian feels helpless. Lip has no one to help him through this shit, and even though Ian is more than willing to see this through with him, Lip is being distant and evasive. 

He can feel Lip pulling away from him. If this is Lip's idea of their new normal, Ian's not impressed. 

Ian takes a sip of his beer, sitting at the kitchen table. There is mud all over the linoleum floor, and the microwave is missing. Looks like Frank has made a visit. Ian rolls his eyes. 

Fucking Frank. 

Ian shakes his head, laughing to himself. There's a post-it note stuck to the kitchen table. Ian peels it off the sticky surface, his eyes scanning the words. 

 

\-- took Liam to a movie. left over pizza in the oven, Fi--

 

Ian sighs, taking a long sip of his beer. He can't help but feel like he never sees his family anymore. No one is ever home when he is, and when they are, everyone is caught up in their own shit. Debbie spends most of her nights working. She's got a girlfriend, even if that's still weird to Ian, and when she's not at her night welding job, she's at Michelle's house. Ian can't remember the last time he saw Frannie. 

Carl is still away at school. Kicking ass and taking names, readying himself for the army in another year. Ian used to be a bit jealous of his baby brother. Carl is doing all the things Ian thought he would do, before he got sick and his whole world collapsed. 

But now Ian is just so very proud of him. Carl has turned his life around, after his gangbanger days, the drugs and the guns. Everyone was so certain he'd end up a lifetime criminal. But he has taken another road. 

Now, instead of jealousy, Ian looks to Carl with admiration. If his little brother can come back from the edge of ruin, any of the Gallaghers can. 

So Ian goes to work, goes to class, takes his meds and does what he has to do. He can fix his shit, just like Carl did. 

But this whole fiasco with Lip and the horror of his new existence has Ian second guessing their chances of gaining any semblance of normalcy any time soon. 

During the past month, Ian has been doing nothing but thinking about the last full moon. Lip's turn, the time he spent at the Milkovich manor, and Mickey of course. 

Ian's not sure what it is about Mickey, but Ian can't seem to get him off his mind. It's the strangest feeling, because Ian is legitimately scared of Mickey and his siblings. They give off this menacing energy, as if Ian can feel the predator in them watching him, like he is just another potential victim in their orbit. But another part of Ian is incredibly attracted to Mickey. And it's not just his ice blue eye, perfect pale skin, or ridiculous ass that draws Ian in. It's something else. Something unnameable, intangible. Ever since Ian first laid eyes on him in that abandoned store, he can't stop seeing his face every time he closes his eyes.

Ian hasn't seen or heard from Mickey since he dropped them off after Lip's first turn. He kind of wishes Lip had let him give Mickey his number. But Ian has a feeling that if Mickey wanted to contact him, he wouldn't need to use the phone. 

Ian's thoughts are interrupted when Lip comes flying through the back door. He looks haggard and tired, which seems to be Lip's default setting these days. Ian's heart breaks for him. This whole month has been surreal for Ian, but it's been hell on earth for his brother. 

Lip has been gone more often than not most days in the past month. No one knows where he goes, and if any asks, they get curt, evasive responses. Ian's sure it has to do with Lip's newly acquired condition, but he's too afraid to push his brother into talking about it. Fiona is at a loss, still angry with them for taking off and not telling her where they went or what they were doing last month during the full moon. She's suspicious about Lip's speedy recovery, and his shady behavior is doing nothing to quell her concerns. Ian's pretty sure she think Lip's on drugs. Ian wishes he could tell her, but she would never believe him. She'd probably try to have him committed again. 

"Where have you been?" Ian asked, taking another long sip of his beer. He eyed his brother carefully. He had bags under his eyes and his skin was sallow, but he'd bulked up a lot, too. The muscles in his arms were bulging in the wife-beater he was wearing, and his neck looked thicker than Ian had ever seen it. But his eyes were tired and sad, and Ian can read the suffering all over his stricken face. 

"I was with Mandy and Mickey." Lip replied, opening the fridge and grabbing a beer for himself. 

"What?" Ian asked, sitting forward. He dropped his beer to the table and leaned toward his brother as he sat across from him.

Lip shrugged, pulling a cigarette out of his pack and lighting it. Ian put his hand out for one and Lip passed it over before lighting another for himself, blowing the smoke toward the ceiling. They sat smoking quietly for a moment until Ian couldn't take it anymore.

"Lip, what were you doing with Mickey and Mandy? Is that where you are all the time? Why didn't you tell me?" Ian fired off the questions in rapid fire succession, not even bothering to breathe. Is this what his brother's been up to when he doesn't come home at night? Is he at that giant manor house with the Milkovich siblings, bonding over their shared miscreation? 

"Ian." Lip sighed, putting his hand up to stop Ian mid-rant. "It's not all that crazy. They've just been helping me get used to all this shit. We've been doing a lot of boring reading, actually. Documents and texts about The Order and lychanthropy. You know me, Ian, I need to know as much as I can about this shit. I need to learn everything there is to know. If this is my life now, I need to be informed." 

"I get that." Ian said, trying to calm himself. "But why didn't you just tell me? Fiona thinks you're on drugs. And I didn't know what to think. I was scared for you. You shouldn't have to go through this alone. We're brothers, Lip. I always have your back." Ian sighed, staring at his brother, confused and a little hurt. 

"I don't want you anywhere near this shit, Ian." Lip said, finishing off his beer and dropping the empty on the table. "I may be fucked for life now, but this shit doesn't have to touch you, or anyone else I love."

"Lip..." Ian started, but Lip cut him off. 

"No, Ian, I'm serious." he said vehemently. "I don't want you or Fiona or anyone else near any of this shit. I don't want you around when I turn, and I want you to stay the fuck away from the Milkovichs. They're dangerous."

"Oh, so they're dangerous to me, but not to you? That's bullshit, Lip." Ian was getting angry now. He knows Lip is just looking out for him, but Ian is a grown ass man, and he wants to be there for his brother. He doesn't need to be protected or babied. "I'm not fucking scared."

"You should be!" Lip roared, frightening Ian. Lip was out of his seat in an instant, sending the chair flying backwards. It slammed into the wall, leaving a dent in the plaster. He stood there, chest heaving, eyes closed, obviously trying to calm himself before he spoke again. He sighed, glancing toward Ian with those tired eyes again. "I am dangerous now, Ian. Very fucking dangerous. And the Milkovichs are killers. Do you get that? They kill people." 

Ian sighed, falling back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Lip had a point. Ian had thought about that too. Maybe it wasn't safe or smart to get involved in this with his brother. 

But there's no way in hell he's letting Lip do this all alone. 

"It's not up to you." he said defiantly. He grabbed another cigarette, lighting it and immediately sucking down a deep drag. He needed to calm his frazzled nerves. "I want to help you." 

"Ian, with everything going on in your life, I think it would be best if you stayed out of this." 

"Everything going on?" Ian laughed incredulously. "You mean working at the diner? Or do you mean the two classes I'm taking at Malcolm X? Or could it be my bipolar disorder you're referring to?" 

"Ian, man, that's not what I meant." Lip replied tiredly, running a hand through his unruly hair. He righted his seat an dropped back into it, his whole body radiating exhaustion. 

"That's exactly what you mean." Ian replied. "This has nothing to do with you being dangerous, or Mickey being dangerous. This is about you thinking I'm too fucked up to handle the pressure of all this." 

"Ian, not everything is about your god damn disorder." Lip spat, growing irritated. "No, I don't think all this fucking madness would be good for your mental health, but all that is secondary to the fact that we are dealing with some very dangerous shit. Ian, we're talking about giant rabid dogs, blood sucking demons, and rouge monk assassins. Do you fucking get that???" 

Ian sighed again, hanging his head. He stood from the table, glaring at his brother. "I get it just fine, Lip." he said quietly, moving toward the stairs. He stopped at the bottom step, turning toward his brother. "I understand perfectly well what's going on here. And I know you think you can do it all alone. I know you think you don't need anyone or anything to help you. But you're wrong. You're fucking wrong, Lip. I love you, man. And you need to let me help you with this. Because if you don't, and something happens to you, I'll never forgive myself. I won't come back from something like that Lip, you and I both know that. I have to at least try. And you have to let me." with that Ian turned and walked up the stairs. He could hear Lip's breath hitch, and Ian was sure he was on the verge of tears. 

Ian pinched the bridge of his nose, his own eyes stinging. 

He didn't know what was going to happen, but he and Lip would see it through together, like they always did. Ian wasn't fucking backing down. 

 

***

 

Mickey sips his drink slowly, casting his eyes across the crowded dance floor. The strobe lights throb in time with the pounding house music, the bass so heavy Mickey can feel it reverberating in his chest. 

He doesn't really want to be at the club tonight. But he needed to get out of the house, and out of his own head. He is in desperate need of a distraction. So that's how he found himself at Backstage. The place was nothing special, just a hole in the wall gay bar. After a while, all these places looked the same. Hell, all the men look the same. Identical tight t shirts, stretched over well muscled chests. The same wide, unfocused eyes. The same loud, drunken laughter. Nothing ever changes in a place like this. 

But none of that shit matters. Mickey is here for a reason. And that reason is not to find true love. He's not even interested in conversation. He's got a game plan and he's going to stick to it. 

His eyes scan the dance floor again, seeking out a mark. He's thirsty and he's horny, and he's done sitting around waiting for someone to come up to him. 

It's been three weeks since Lip Gallagher's first turn, and Mickey and his siblings have been seeing a lot of the young wolf lately. Lip is utterly clueless in the ways of the world as a newborn monster. Mickey isn't sure when it happened, but his family has taken him under their collective wing. 

The man is pompous, and self-aggrandizing. According to Lip, there is no problem he can't solve, nothing he can not learn, no one who can best him. 

Mickey is inclined to disagree. He's not particularly fond of the eldest Gallagher brother, and Mickey has a inkling the feeling is quite mutual. But they don't have to be friends to be allies, and Mickey meant it when he said he wanted to help. So that's what they've been doing. 

Lip comes over most nights, and Mickey will lead him to the library, where they will pour over texts and books for hours on end. Lip reads everything he can find on his condition, no matter how old or esoteric. 

Mickey has been researching The Order, seeing how his father never taught them shit about the cult that hunted them. 

Sometimes Mandy and Iggy would join them. Mandy had been in contact with Katie, and now they are all waiting for her to bring them the stolen documents, hopefully shedding some much needed light on the confounding topic. 

The one thing they don't talk about is Ian. 

Mickey scoffs into his drink, recalling the argument that precipitated the embargo on all things 'Ian Gallagher'....

 

*** Two weeks ago***

Mickey stretched out on his stomach in the library, his elbows digging into the oriental rug as he re-read the paragraph again. 

God, does all this literature have to be so dry? It's god damn Lupine mythology. You would think it would be more exciting. He groans, closing the book and folding his hands over the cover, resting his chin on his knuckles as he glances around the room. 

His sister and Lip are seated at the table by the window, surrounded by open books as they scan the texts for pertinent information. 

"Oh!" his sister says, shattering the quiet of the room. "I finally heard back from Katie. She's gonna come by the house soon." 

"Is she now?" Mickey asks, pushing up off the rug so he can sit up. He tucks his feet under his crossed legs, glancing over at his sister. He was starting to wonder if Katie was ever going to get back to them. 

Mickey's not even sure where she lives these days. After she left them, she went dark for a while. Mickey has no idea how his sister even found her. 

"Yeah." Mandy smiles. "She's got some information for us, but I want her to hand deliver it. I don't trust the mail." 

"Oh, I see." Mickey chuckled. "Smart of you not to trust that nefarious postal service. Shady motherfuckers." he glanced over at his sister, eyebrows high on his forehead. "I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you want to bury your face between her thighs." he laughed again as his sister launched a giant volume of Roman Mythology at his head. It whizzed by, barely missing his temple and colliding loudly with the wall behind him. 

Lip chuckled, shaking his head. He's been at the house more and more these days, under the guise of learning about his condition. Mickey has a feeling it has more to do with being around people like himself. Monsters like him. Mickey can see it all over Lip's face. He's scared to go home, afraid to be around the people that love him the most. Unsure if he can ever go back to being the person he was before. "Is she at least cute?" he asks, thumbing through the book without looking up. 

"She's gorgeous." Mandy sighed, closing her eyes as she lost herself in the mental image of her long lost lover. "Speaking of gorgeous, where is your fine-ass specimen of a brother of yours? I figured you two were a package deal, and we've seen neither hide nor ginger hair since the last full moon." 

Mickey's ears perked up at the sound of Ian's name, but he kept his eyes on his hands. He twisted his tattooed fingers together in his lap as he waited non-too-patiently for Lip to respond. 

"He, um, he doesn't want to come up here with me." Lip said, cracking his knuckles anxiously.

That did it. Mickey had to look up then. He locked eyes with Lip across the room, taking in the quiet defiance in his eyes, the set of his jaw. 

"And why is that?" Mandy asked before Mickey could speak. She leaned forward in her chair, crossing her arms in front of her on the table as she leveled Lip with a glare. 

"No offense, guys." Lip said, hands up, placating. "He just wants to steer clear of all this stuff. I mean, do you blame him? I am dangerous these days, and you guys are way worse than me. I don't blame him for wanting to keep his distance. You kind of scare the shit out of him." 

"He said that?" Mickey asked before he could stop himself. His mind went back, cataloging and dissecting every word he exchanged with Ian. Every look, every touch. Mickey had thought they had been friendly enough. Mickey had thought there had been something there, between them. Something equally felt, beyond the mysterious Pull on Mickey's end. 

He'd told Ian things he'd never told anyone. He'd stayed with him all night, offering silent company and support. Mickey had walked away from that encounter feeling a connection with Ian unlike any other he'd felt before. 

So to hear Lip say these things was upsetting to say the least. Had Mickey imagined it all? Had Ian been fearful and anxious the entire time he'd spent with Mickey? Was he really so afraid that he would walk away forever without so much as a word? Beg his brother to protect him from Mickey and his family? 

The thought made Mickey sick. 

"Not in so many words, but yeah." Lip shrugged, picking up a new book and opening it to a random page. "But he's right. He's got enough going on in his life as it is. He doesn't need to add werewolves or blood drinking demons to the list." 

"And the cult of assassins." Mandy added helpfully. 

"And that." Lip said, nodding. "I think Ian just thinks it's smartest to steer clear of all this madness. He's better off staying as far away from this, and us, as he can." as Lip spoke, his eyes locked with Mickey's, and his message was received loud and clear. 

'Stay away from my brother. He doesn't want anything to do with you.' 

Mickey nodded, sighing quietly. 

Okay then. 

Mickey is okay with doing a lot of questionable things in his life, but he wasn't going to pursue someone who was deathly afraid of him. 

Ian already has stalker in his life, Mickey's not going to add to his misery. 

"Oh! I think I've found something!" Mandy said excitedly, before her brow furrowed in confusion. "Um, who here reads Latin?" 

 

***

 

Mickey grimaces at the memory. He can be so stupid sometimes. He got so caught up in the feeling pulling him toward Ian, he totally forgot about the fact that the feeling could very well be one-sided. And now that that seemed to be the case, Mickey was having a hard time moving on from it. 

Once Lip had made it clear that Ian wanted nothing to do with Mickey, Mickey had spent a couple days researching The Pull, while the rest of them continued doing homework on The Order. 

The Pull worked in a couple different ways. You are either drawn to someone as your mate, or as your meal. Here Mickey was with his stupidly homoromantic ideations , thinking that Ian was meant to be his mate. 

But now, after what Lip has told him, that seems patently impossible. The pull of a mate is always felt by both parties. And if Ian is afraid of him, or disgusted by him, the Pull can not be mate-related. 

The only other way an Upir can feel the Pull is induced by appetite. If Ian is not destined to be his fated mate, he is destined to be his most delicious meal. Go fucking figure. If you drink from someone you are drawn to by the Pull, it will feel like drinking liquid ecstasy. The taste, the sensations, the energy you acquire while consuming it, is otherworldly and intoxicating. It's said to be the single most transcendent experience and Upir can have. 

Mickey can admit, if only to himself, that he is disappointed with this outcome. He had dared to hope, for one singular moment, that he'd found something worth trying for, for once. Ian was intriguing and sexy, and he didn't scare easily. Or at least Mickey had thought he didn't. Now Mickey was left feeling impossibly hollow. 

Ian was not meant for him, and Mickey refused to drink from him, no matter how earth-shattering of life altering the experience would be. 

So Mickey had heeded Ian's wishes and Lip's warnings, and kept his distance. 

That is how he found himself at Backstage tonight. He needed to get his mind off the red head. He needed to put some distance between himself and the madness going on back at his house. Newborn werewolves and religious hit squads could wait one more night. He needed a night alone to forget about all the work to be done, and all the things he could never have. 

He nodded to the blond bartender as he placed another drink down in front of him. The bartender smirked, licking his lips before moving onto the next customer. 

Mickey throws a few bills on the bar, grabbing up his drink and tossing it back quickly. As he drops the glass down on the bar next to the crumpled bills, he locks eyes with a man across the bar. 

It's dark in the bar, but Mickey can see just fine. The man is tall, with muscles bulging underneath his black button down shirt. He's got a glass in one hand, his other hand resting on his hip, which he has cocked out to the side. The pose accentuates his long torso and strong thighs, the curve of his ass. 

Mickey licks his lips, eyebrows raises. The man smiles, pushing his way through the crowd as he walks toward Mickey with purpose. 

Mickey holds in a sigh. Sometimes it's just too easy. Like shooting fish in a barrel. Mickey longs for the thrill of the hunt. He's not sure if that is his predator's instinct speaking, or just his desperate desire for actual arousal. Mickey gets off plenty. He has no problem finding someone to fuck. What he's missing is the excitement of wanting and being wanted. Desire. Passion. That's what Mickey's craving. 

His thoughts return to Ian as the man finally makes his way over, but he quickly pushes Ian to the back of his mind in favor of the man standing in front of him. He smirks at Mickey, boldly running a hand down his arm, squeezing his wrist. 

"Hey there." the man says, leaning in to speak against Mickey's ear over the pounding beat of the music. "I'm Mason." 

Mickey holds in a rude snort. "Of course you are." Mickey responds, stepping away from the bar. He doesn't bother giving his name, it's pointless. "Follow me." Mickey says instead, just enough authority in his voice that Mason obliges without question. Their eyes stay locked as Mickey back away, grabbing Mason's wrist and leading him toward the back of the bar. 

There is a long hallway off the far end of the main room. Along both sides of the hallway are doors which lead to private rooms. Mickey knows this bar well, has been coming here for years, every time he's in Chicago. So he is well aware of what goes on in the back rooms. 

He tries each door until he finds one that is unlocked. He pushes his way in, looking around the small room. There is a love seat in the center of the space, a low glass table a few feet in front of it. There are framed posters on the crimson walls. Abstract art like Picasso and Salvador Dali. There is a bookshelf along the far wall. On the shelves there is a small stereo, a box of kleenex, and an assortment of lubes and condoms. 

Mickey chuckles to himself at the garish display. 

"You're so hot." Mason moans, crowding Mickey against the couch. Mickey drops down on the cushions, spreading his legs. He's not really into this, but he's still longing for a distraction, so he pushes his thoughts aside once more, forcing himself to stay in the moment. 

"Get on your knees." Mickey says as he leans back to unbuckle his belt. Mason hits the floor immediately, his eyes wild and hungry. His hands fly up to help Mickey with his pants. Mickey tips his head back, allowing his mind to wander for a moment before glancing at the man kneeling in front of him. Mason is an attractive enough guy. Curly brown hair and dark chocolate eyes. Mickey hisses as Mason's hand clamps around his cock, stroking it slowly as his tongue flicks out to slide around the head. "Yeah, that's good." he sighs. "Look at me." he says. Mason looks up, his eyes dancing and his mouth stretched wide around the head of Mickey's cock. "Suck me off, then I'll take care of you." 

Mason nods, smiling around Mickey's girth before closing his eyes and swallowing him down. 

Mickey tips his head back, closing his eyes. Yeah, this is what he needed. He reaches up, threading his fingers through Mason's hair, pulling tightly as the man bobs his head in his lap. 

Mickey's mind starts to wander as he loses himself in the pleasure of the moment. He allows himself to slip, if only for a second. 

No one has to know. 

He clenches his eyes tight as he imagines another man on his knees for him. His fingers flex in Mason's hair, but he feels soft red strands under his fingertips. Mason hums, taking him deeper, but Mickey feels another man's tongue, another man's lips. Mason pulls off running his tongue along Mickey's shaft, lips and teeth pulling at the sensitive skin of Mickey's sack and Mickey groans. Mason swallows him down once more, bobbing his head furiously as Mickey nears the end. In his mind's eye, he glances down, watching set of lust-blown emerald green eyes staring back at him as he buck his hips sharply, coming down Mason's throat with a groan. 

Mickey sighs, silently berating himself for his weakness. He feels guilty for bringing Ian into this moment. 

Is this going to be his life now? Ian invading all his thoughts, tainting all his encounters? If this is supposed to be Mickey's new normal, he is not impressed.

Something's gotta give. 

"Good?" Mason asks, bringing Mickey back to reality. Mickey glances down at him as he wipes his wet mouth on the back of his hand. 

"Yeah." Mickey nods, tucking himself back into his pants. "Get up here." he motions with his hand and Mason joins him on the sofa. Mickey pulls him close with an arm around his waist. He tucks his face into the crook of Mason's neck, inhaling deeply. He smells like evergreen trees and silver polish. Not a very enticing smell, but beggars can't be choosers. Mason moves to kiss him, but Mickey backs up, locking eyes with the man. He pushing his aura out, surrounding the other man with the electric blue energy. "I don't kiss." he shook his head. "Get your dick out." 

Mason smiles, but his face looks loose and lax now. That is the moment Mickey's sure he's got him under his spell. He smirks, sending out a series of calming vibrations from deep within his chest. Mason purrs as he frees his erection. Mickey grabs it roughly, burying his face in Mason's neck again. 

Mickey jerks Mason off precisely, twisting his wrist on every upstroke, thumbing the head absentmindedly as his thirst builds. Mickey hisses, his mouth watering as Mason moans above him. Mickey holds off, though, waiting until he can tell that Mason is about to blow before he succumbs to his own need. 

"Oh...." Mason moans. "Fuck yes." 

There it is. Mickey smiles against Mason's neck as the other man's hips jerk in his grasp. Mickey bares his teeth, darting his tongue out to taste the flesh before sinking his teeth into his jugular vein. 

"Fuck." Mason sighs, but Mickey doesn't even hear him. He lets himself go, totally entranced by the hot blood pulsing down his throat. His hand moves quickly, but independent of his mind. He jerks Mason off with clinical precision, his movements practiced and automatic. He sucks hard, pulling more and more blood down his throat. But his mind is elsewhere once more. 

He wonders in that moment what Ian tastes like. What his skin tastes like. What his blood tastes like. What his come tastes like. What would Ian sound like, desperate and begging Mickey to let him come? What would he look like, sweaty and writhing underneath Mickey? 

Mickey gasps, pulling back form Mason's neck with a start as the other man spills his seed all over Mickey's hand. 

Jesus. 

He looks at the other man, and for a terror-filled moment he's certain he's killed him. Mason's eyes are closed, his mouth hanging open, his jaw slack. Mickey places a sticky finger against his pulse point and sighs in relief when he feels the faint thrumming of Mason's heartbeat under his fingers. 

Mickey needs to get out of here. 

He tucks Mason's dick back into his pants, wipes the stray drops of blood from around the wound on his neck, and settles him more comfortably on the sofa. The poor guy will wake up in a couple hours and not remember a damn thing. 

Mickey wipes his soiled hand on Mason's jeans, shrugging at the mess he'd left. 

Mickey stands, a little wobbly under the influence of all the blood he just drank. He should be sated. He should be happy. He just got everything he was looking for tonight. 

But all he feels is unsatisfied. It all feels unfinished, as if he's been interrupted. He's angry with himself, and he's still got that raw, aching craving scratching just under his skin. 

He knows what he needs to do. Even if he promised he wouldn't. 

He leaves Mason to sleep it off on the couch, making his way out of the room, then out of the bar. 

The wind whips his face as he makes his way back to his car. 

He's not sure what's going to come of this, but he has to quell this craving. 

 

***

 

Ian is still irritated from his conversation with Lip. He's been sitting upstairs in his room, listening to music and just stewing in his anger for about an hour now. 

His phone chimes on the nightstand and he grabs it, unlocking the screen so he can read the text.

 

Fi: me & liam are just gonna stay at the apartment tonight. debs & frannie are @ michelle's, so it's just u & lip 2night. 

 

Ian sighs, tossing the phone back down on the bedside table and rolling over on his side. He stares at the wall for a few minutes until he hears footsteps on the stairs. He rolls back onto his back just as Lip pushes the door open. 

His brother leans against the door jamb, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm gonna get outta here." 

"Oh yeah?" Ian asks, folding his arms behind his head. "Going back to the Manor house?" 

Lips heaves a frustrated sigh, pushing off the doorway and sitting down on the bed next to his brother. "Don't be like this, please." 

Ian just continued to glare, defiantly jutting his chin out. 

"Dude, none of this is my fault." Lip said, pleading. "It's not my fault I got infected, and it's not my fault your little crush isn't interested in your narrow ass." 

"Fuck off, Lip." Ian sighed, tempering his traitorous smile. "It's not even like that." and it wasn't, not really. Sure, there was something about Mickey that had Ian entranced, but it was more about standing with his brother than anything else. 

"I know it doesn't happen to you a lot, but there was bound to be a dude out there that didn't wanna bend over for you, kid." Lip laughed. "Why don't you try to find a guy on campus? Someone you have shit in common with, y'know? Like a pulse, for starters." 

"Again, fuck off." Ian groaned, rolling away from Lip and facing the wall once more. 

Lip leaned over the bed, gripping Ian's shoulder tight. "It's for the best, man. It's my job to look out for you." 

"Yeah, yeah." Ian sighed, more than over this particular conversation. 

"Listen, I really gotta get going. You gonna be okay here by yourself?" 

Ian laughed bitterly, burying his face in his pillow before he said something cruel. "Lip, I've been taking care of myself for my entire life. I took my meds, if that's what you're getting at. And I'm certainly not afraid to be alone. Just go." 

Lip didn't say anything else, just squeezed Ian's shoulder one last time before standing from the bed and exiting the room. 

Once he was alone again, Ian rolled onto his back again, sighing quietly as he stared at the ceiling. 

What a clusterfuck. 

Ian doesn't know what to do. Lip is pushing him away, and he can't talk to anyone else about this shit. Hell, his therapist would have him committed again if he shared any of this shit with her. 

He glanced over to the nightstand. His phone was there, music still flowing softly from it's speaker. There was a half full Gatorade and an assortment of prescription bottles. Ian glares at his meds for a moment, feeling that familiar swell of anger in his chest. 

How different things would be if he weren't fucking sick. 

He'd have the trust of his family. He'd have a better job, maybe his own place. A boyfriend to share it all with. He could feel that life as it slipped through his fingers, leaving him with this mess instead. 

So, so much would be different.

Most importantly, he'd be with his brother right now, forming some kind of plan to fix this shit. Lip would trust in him to have his back. Look to him for support. He'd ask Ian's opinions, and value his ideas. He'd want Ian with him while he fought this battle. 

Instead, Ian's laying alone in his bedroom, cursing his own ineffectual vulnerability. Instead, Ian's caught in a never ending spiral of shame and self loathing, coupled with crippling, impotent anxiety about his brother's dire situation. 

He closes his eyes, focusing on his breathing and the low melody in the air. He can feel panic starting to rise inside him, and he has to breathe it the fuck down before it overtakes him. He hates feeling powerless. Powerless against his own mind, powerless in his everyday life, and now powerless to help his brother during the hardest time of his life. Relegated to the sidelines because he's not stable enough to be of assistance. Ian should be used to being a hindrance these days, but it still stings. 

He's a crazy, useless mess of a man, and he can't do anything to change that either. 

He feels tears stinging his eyes, so he pinches them shut. He wills his mind to go blank, counting his breaths in his head as Bob Dylan serenades him quietly. His breathes deliberately, his heart slowing in his chest and his mind unwinding, settling. Soon, he's calm again, his chest rising and falling as he teeters on the edge of unconsciousness. 

Ian dreams. He knows he's dreaming in that intangible way you sense things like that. Details are fuzzy, like he can't tell if it's day or night. He can't speak, and he can't hear, but he can feel. He feels the smooth skin under his fingertips. He feels lips and teeth dragging along his chest and stomach. He can feel hot breath against his neck. Somewhere deep inside, he knows it's Mickey writhing on top of him, silently begging Ian for something just out of reach. In that surreal moment, Ian is sure he'd give Mickey anything he wanted. His body, his blood, his life. He'd happily give it all to Mickey, without a second thought...

Ian gasps, startled out of his sleep by a sharp rapping against his window. His eyes fly open and he flails for his phone on the nightstand. He brings the device to his face, realizing he must have passed out. It's well after one in the morning. 

He groans, pressing down on his evident erection as he moves to sit up when he hears the noise again. A distinct thunk against the glass of his window. Ian is wary right away, the last remnants of his boner withering as panic grips him once more. With everything that's been happening, a late night visitor is unnerving to say the least. He remembers in that moment that he is very much alone in the house, and his heart starts to pound in his chest. 

Fuck.

Ian grabs a five pound dumbbell from the floor and slides up against the wall, out of view of the window. He gives himself a rushed, silent pep talk before gathering the courage to spread the blinds with his fingers and peer out onto the darkened street. At first he doesn't see anything, and that creepy feeling of being watched returns tenfold. 

Ian's eyes scan the streets, desperately searching while simultaneously hoping no one is there. 

Finally, his eyes catch on a form standing in the shadow of the fence. It's dark, and he can't make out more than the outline of a person, but it IS a person, Ian's certain of it. 

His heart is hammering in his chest, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out on his back as his stomach churns with a new spike of anxiety. Fuck, he should have gone with Lip. What is he supposed to do now? Ian on his own against trained assassins? Maybe he would have stood a fighting chance back in his ROTC days, but it's been years since he's been in a proper fight. 

Jesus, he's spiraling again. He chances another look out the window and sees no one. No shadow, no figure. Nothing. 

Ian's breath catches in his throat and his traitorous eyes start to sting with fresh tears. 

God damn it. He's losing his damn mind. 

He moves to step away from the window, angry with himself for getting so worked up over nothing. He better call Lip. That's what his support list is for. Reach out when your emotions get on top of you, that's what Anne is always telling him. There is no shame in asking for help. 

Then why does Ian always feel so shitty? 

He turns to grab his phone off the nightstand when another clink against his window stops him in his tracks. He whips around fast, pulling the blinds up wildly, tired of fucking around. If someone is out there, they better be fucking ready to throw down. 

Ian's eyes scan the street once more, and he swears his heart stops when his sight finally lands on someone. 

Mickey. 

Ian huffs out a weak laugh, his whole body going boneless with relief. He flings the window open, propping his hands on the casing as he leans out over the yard. 

Mickey tilts his head up, locking eyes with Ian. He gives Ian a little wave, and Ian wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

"What are you doing here?" Ian whisper-shouts. He can't shake the bizarre feeling that he somehow summoned Mickey here with his wet dreams. "How long have you been out here?" 

"Can I come in?" Mickey asks, instead of answering. He's got his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, and he's shuffling nervously from foot to foot. Never once does he take his eyes off Ian. 

Ian nods, utterly perplexed. What is Mickey doing here? 

Mickey nods back, stepping away from the window and out of sight. Ian whirls around, grabbing a discarded t shirt and pulling it over his head on his way out of his bedroom. He bounds down the stairs and flings the door open, coming face to face with the man of his literal dreams. 

"Mickey, what's going on?" Ian asks, stepping aside so Mickey can enter the house. Ian shuts the door, turning to face Mickey once more. Mickey sticks out like a sore thumb in his living room. He's dressed all in black, his tailored clothes standing out in stark contrast to his pale skin. He shrugs, like he's not sure why he's there either. As if he doesn't know how he got there, or what he's doing standing in front of Ian all of the sudden. "Is it Lip? Is something wrong?" Ian asks, his panic redoubling instantly. 

"No." Mickey shook his head slowly. "It's nothing like that." he sighed, frustrated with himself. 

What is he doing here? Didn't he promise Lip he'd respect Ian's wishes and leave him alone? 

"I'm sorry." Mickey says instead. "Were you sleeping?" 

"Not really." Ian says slowly, still confused. "Did you need something? Can I help you with something?" 

"No, no." Mickey sighed, aggravation bleeding into his tone. "Listen, I'm sorry." he blurted. "I don't know what I'm doing here. I told your brother I'd respect your wishes, and here I am anyway. I don't know what I'm doing. I'll just go. I'm sorry." he can't seem to shut the fuck up all of the sudden. 

It doesn't help that the Pull is back in full force. It had started out as it usually does. A low grade electrical pulse just under his ribs, kicking in just as he left the bar. That feeling, humming through his whole body, intensifying more and more the closer he got to Ian's house. And now that he's here, standing in front of the man himself, Mickey feels as if his whole body is alight with this pulsating need to be near him. He feels magnetized, unable to stay away, even though that's what Ian wants. He feels like the biggest asshole. This poor guy and his brother are dealing with so much, but here comes Mickey to add 'demonic stalker' to the list. 

"Respect my wishes?" Ian repeats, clearly confused. "Mick, what are you talking about?" 

Mickey just stares blankly at him, his mouth hanging open. "Your wishes to never see me again..." Mickey says quietly. It pains him to say it out loud, and Mickey wishes Ian hadn't made him say it. 

"What?" Ian is so confused right now. Then it hits him. 

Lip. 

Ian chuckles humorlessly, not surprised at all that his brother would pull something like this. "Did you wanna come upstairs? I think we need to talk." 

Mickey gives Ian a curious look, unsure what is happening right now. But as soon as Ian invites him upstairs, the thrumming in his chest peaks before ebbing away to a low level flutter. "Yeah." he says quietly. "Okay." 

Ian gives him a small smile, turning toward the stairs and leading Mickey up to the second floor. "It's just me here tonight, so don't worry about being quiet."

Mickey doesn't reply, too lost in his own thoughts to respond. 

This is probably a very bad idea. Ian is being polite, probably trying to find a way to turn Mickey away without upsetting him. Ian is afraid of Mickey, and he most likely feels compelled to be polite. Mickey chastises himself for the hundredth time for this stupid stunt. Coming to Ian's home in the middle of the night, unannounced. 

He just can't seem to help himself where Ian is concerned. 

Ian leads him to a room at the end of a long, cluttered hallway. It's small, but clean. A large unmade bed takes up most of the space. A tall dresser stands in the corner by the window, the top of it littered with toiletries and notebooks. A small nightstand sits between the bed and the window, a small lamp standing on top of it, along with an open sports drink and a collection of prescription bottles. Mickey's eyes scan the rest of the room as Ian seats himself on the end of the bed. The walls are covered in band posters, family photos and what looks like hand drawn pictures. The room feels well lived in, and Mickey can't help but relax, immersed in Ian's space like this. 

Mickey stands awkwardly by the end of the bed until Ian chuckles, patting the spot next to him. "You can sit, I won't bite." 

Mickey smirks, eyebrows raised, and Ian cringes at his poor choice of words. "I didn't mean it like that. I don't know how to be around you without saying something stupid." 

"It's fine." Mickey smiles, finally sitting next to Ian on the bed. He can feel that pull stirring inside him once again and he tries to temper it as best he can. It's just hard, being so close to Ian like this. The feeling stirs deep within Mickey's gut, and he knows he can't put this off any longer. "That's what we need to talk about." 

"Biting?" Ian asks, trying for some levity. 

"No, dumbass, not biting." Mickey chuckles, chancing a tease of his own. He shoves Ian's shoulder with an open palm, and his whole body thrums at the simple contact. "I'm sorry to just showing up like this after you asked me to stay away. I can't really justify it beyond saying I had to see you. I'll understand if you'd rather I just go." Mickey glanced up at Ian through his eyelashes. What is he doing? This is insane. This is certainly the stupidest thing Mickey's done in a long time. And that's really saying something. 

"See, that's the thing." Ian shakes his head. "I have a feeling I know what's going on here." he glanced over at Mickey, who was staring at him, anticipating his next words. "Lip told me, after his first turn, that he wanted me as far away from all this supernatural shit as humanly possible. He doesn't want me helping with his changes, or the Order. He also doesn't want me anywhere near you or your family. Says it's not good for me." 

"He has a point." Mickey conceded, considering. "But HE told you all this? You didn't think that? You didn't tell your brother you were afraid of me? Ask him to make sure I stayed away?" Mickey tried to temper his elation. The last thing he needed to do was get ahead of himself. 

Who is he kidding? Mickey's already well over his head. If not, he wouldn't even be sitting with Ian. If he were smart, he'd have left Ian alone. Lip was right. 

Ian shook his head, angry with his brother. It was so like Lip to meddle in Ian's life, always thinking he knew what was best for Ian, what Ian needed. It made Ian furious. He was not a helpless child anymore, deferring to his big brother over every little thing in his life. It made him feel small and powerless. Like Lip didn't trust him to make sound decisions about his own life. It made him question himself. There was no worse feeling for Ian. 

"That motherfucker." Ian spat, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. "No, I never said anything like that." 

"Oh." Mickey huffed, his face falling in consternation. 

"Yeah. Oh." Ian sighed, throwing himself down on the bed. The motion rocked Mickey and he pitched sideways. Ian's hand shot out to steady him, and Mickey's whole body erupted in tingles from the simple contact. Ian smiled shyly at him, taking his arm back and folding his hands over his stomach as he reclined on the mattress. "My older brother is very protective of me. I guess you could almost call it controlling.... It wasn't always like this, but once I got sick, he kind of turned into a helicopter brother." 

"Sick?" Mickey asked, turning on the bed so he could see Ian's face. His knee knocked against Ian's calf, and Mickey left it there, soaking up the warmth radiating off Ian's body like a sponge. 

Mickey is curious to finally find out what Ian's aliment is, but he doesn't want to push. So he just waits.

"Yeah." Ian sighed. "I'm bipolar. You know what that is?" he asked quietly. He wasn't quite ready for this conversation, he never really was, even if he knew it had to be done. But that didn't stop that dark sinking feeling from descending upon him like it always did. He felt feeble and unsteady talking about his disorder. Broken. Unfixable. It was a never ending ordeal, each time he met someone new. He had to explain it all again. It felt like tearing open an old, scarred wound, ripping himself open and letting the other person gawk at his diseased insides. He glanced up at Mickey, anticipating the sad, pitying look. Or worse, the wary apprehension. What he saw instead was a calm, placid smile. 

"Yeah, Ian, I know what that is. When you've been around as long as I have, you see all kinds of shit. It's not that big a deal."

Ian gaped at Mickey, shocked. Not that big a deal? Seriously? 

"What?" Ian asked, eyes wide. No one had ever said that to him. Not once. His family had been devastated by his diagnosis, so certain that Ian's life as he knew it was over. So sure that Ian would drag them all down into his mess with them. Just like Monica. Fiona had cried. Lip had punched a hole in the wall, red faced and swearing. Ian had felt so guilty, like he had ruined everything. His own life, and theirs. 

And that feeling has followed Ian ever since his diagnosis. Any time he has to disclose to a prospective employer, a new friend, or a guy he wants to date. He is consumed with that same hopeless dread. 

No one will ever understand him. No one will ever take the time to really know him. No one will ever stick around long enough to see that Ian is still there, under all the drugs and the therapy, and the regimented routine. Ian is still Ian, always was. He can't remember the last time he disclosed his diagnosis and it didn't permanently alter the relationship he was trying to form. 

Mickey chuckled, shaking his head. It is such a human thing, getting so worked up over something like this. Mickey is sure it's a very big deal to Ian. He can't imagine what that must feel like, living with a diagnosis like that. But considering the life Mickey has lived, having a treatable mental illness is not the bombshell Ian obviously anticipated. Mickey had expected something like this anyway, after following the Gallagher brothers around. He had known something was up with Ian, he just didn't know what. Finally having a name to Ian's ailment was a relief. Not that he'd tell Ian any of that. 

He watched Ian's expression morph from misery to indignation in an instant. His jaw set, his eyebrows arched, his lips pulled into a thin line as he narrowed his eyes at Mickey. 

Pissed off Ian Gallagher was pretty damn adorable. 

"Ian." Mickey said, smiling softly. "I am not laughing at you." 

"Sure as fuck sounds like it." Ian replied sullenly. Here he was, laying bare all his insecurities, and what did Mickey do? Laugh. Ian huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and throwing himself against his pillows. 

He didn't need this shit. 

"I am not laughing at you." Mickey repeated, turning so he could lean over Ian's prone form with a hand on either side of his head. "I just find it hard to believe that something as simple as mental illness could cause so much distress in your life. I understand it must be hard at times. I know a little bit about feeling out of control of your own life. I am not unsympathetic. I do however think that you are so much more than your diagnosis. I have only known you a short time, but in that short time I have noticed quite a lot about you. I'm observant, it's just my nature. You are brave, and you are loyal. Loving and compassionate. For someone of your age, having lived the life you've lived, you are optimistic, and accepting. That is what I see when I look at you, Ian. Not a sick person." 

Ian stared at Mickey, mouth moving as if to form words that just wouldn't come. It was like Mickey had seen into his soul, knew exactly what he needed to hear. Knew just what to say to obliterate all Ian's pain and anxiety. Ian's face split into a wide, happy smile. Mickey rolled his eyes, knocking his knuckles against his nose in attempt to hide his stupid grin. Being around Ian turned Mickey into a mess. 

"So, this whole fiasco is because my brother doesn't want you agitating what he considers my already fragile mental health, then. It's not because you don't like me, or you guys think I'm not stable enough to help you with The Order?" 

Mickey shook his head, timidly moving to grab Ian's hand from where it was still laying on his chest. He took Ian's hand in both of his, running his tattooed fingers along Ian's longer digits. "Ian, I watched you single handedly take on a werewolf. I think you can hang against The Order no problem. Those cross wielding dinosaurs will rue the day they went up against Ian Gallagher." 

Ian laughed, loud and long. "Now you're just fucking with me."

"No." Mickey shook his head, now openly grinning. "I have no doubt you can hold your own with a whole host of supernatural beings." 

Ian locked eyes with Mickey, a flirty smirk splitting his lips totally unbidden. "What about you?" he whispered, sitting up so their faces were mere inches apart. "Do you think I could handle you?" 

Mickey huffed a small laugh, rolling his eyes. "Corny motherfucker. Are you for real?" 

Ian laughed, nodding. He boldly scooted a few inches closer. So close that his breath stirred the loose hairs around Mickey's face. 

"Why did you come here tonight?" Ian asked, his eyes darting around Mickey's face. "Did you come here just to tell me all this? About my brother? You wanted me to know it was Lip keeping me away, and not you?" 

Mickey nodded minutely, steeling himself for what had to be said next. 

"I have never once had a conversation like this in my entire existence." Mickey said quietly. "So I don't really know where to start, but I suppose what I'm trying to say is ever since the moment I laid eyes on you in the forest, I've wanted to be around you. I know that's selfish, I know I'm a dangerous person. I know your brother is right, and I should stay away from you. I know, logically, that nothing but suffering can come from me pursuing you." Mickey took a breath, watching Ian's face closely. The other man looked pensive, like he was waiting for the hammer to drop. "All that being said, I can't seem to stay away." Mickey sighed. 

Ian's face morphed into a huge smile, his eyes alight with happiness. Mickey was astounded, that such simple words could have such a profound impact on the man. 

"Ever since that first moment, I can't get you out of my head. I feel drawn to you in a way I can't explain with something as mundane as words. It almost feels like a magnet, pulling me towards you. And no matter how much I try to resist it, here I am." 

Ian didn't know what to say. The same feelings had been plaguing him, but he never once entertained the idea of the attraction being mutual. Ian knows that alarm bells should be going off in his head. Mickey is not just some hot guy he met at the coffee shop. He's not the quintessential bad boy with the snarky attitude and the killer ass. Mickey is something else entirely, and Ian should be very afraid.

But he's not. 

Not once since meeting Mickey has Ian felt anything akin to fear. Even as he listened to Mickey tell him a long, impressive array of horror stories did Ian feel any kind of panic or reticence. If anything, it made Ian like him more. Mickey and Ian have a lot more in common than Ian would have anticipated. And Ian wants more. 

"I like you, Mickey." Ian says after a long moment of silence between them. "I like you a lot. And I know what you are, I know what that means. I know I should probably be scared, but I'm not. I'm afraid of a lot of things in my life right now. Lip's condition, this crazy business with The Order, my own fucking head. But you, you I'm not afraid of." 

Mickey smiled sadly, almost angry with himself for saying all this shit. Could he be any more selfish? "You say that now. Wait a while. What you've seen so far is a quiet day at the office for me." 

"Mick, I don't know how else to say this, but I don't scare easily. I want to help you and my brother defeat The Order. I want to protect my family. And I want to know you better, be around you more. I want all of that. Lip doesn't have to protect me. And neither do you. I'm in this." 

Mickey nodded, his eyes boring into Ian's with an intensity Ian's never experienced before. "Okay." he whispered, never looking away. "Okay." 

"Okay?" Ian replied, shocked. "Really?" 

"Yeah, really. Like I said, it's becoming increasingly difficult to keep my distance, and that was when I thought it was what you wanted. Now that I know that's not the case, I don't think I'll be able to stay away. Besides, it will be easier to protect you if I have actual eyes on you." 

A wide, happy smile bloomed on Ian's face and he closed the distance between then, wrapping his arms around Mickey and pulling him to his chest. 

Now, Mickey's not a hugger. He can probably count each embrace he's had in his long life on one hand. He can't remember the last time he touched someone that didn't involve sex, fighting or feeding. It was just something he did not do. It felt unnatural to him. 

But this, here, with Ian, felt like the most natural thing in the world. He tucked his face into Ian's neck as the other man tightened his grip on him. Mickey inhaled deeply, taking in Ian's scent greedily. It was exquisite. Masculine and clean. Fresh cut timber and exotic spices. Mickey's mouth watered, but he tempered his thirst, not even interested in that in the moment. He just wanted this. Only this. Only Ian. 

After a moment, Ian pulled back, keeping his arms wrapped around Mickey tightly. He smiled softly at Mickey, dipping his head down slowly. Mickey smirked, tipping his head back in anticipation. 

Ian's lips were soft and warm, just like the rest of him. The kiss was chaste, almost innocent, but Mickey was drowning in it. The Pull in his chest was thrumming powerfully, his whole body alive with the sensation, tingling down to his toes. 

Perfect. 

Ian sighed, tipping backwards and taking Mickey with him until they were laying sideways on the bed, facing each other. Ian's arm wrapped around Mickey's back, pulling him as close as he could get him as his tongue pushed past Mickey's lips. 

Mickey gasped and Ian took it as the invitation it was, licking into his mouth languidly. 

Kissing Mickey was unlike anything Ian had ever experienced. His lips were cool and tender, his taste was intoxicating. His sharp teeth dragged along Ian's bottom lip, pulling a long groan out of him totally unbidden. 

Mickey chuckled, pulling away and resting his forehead against Ian's. They just stared at each other for a moment, trying to convey their racing thoughts with only their eyes. 

"Mickey, what is this? What's happening?" 

Mickey didn't know what Ian meant. What is happening between them? What is happening with his brother and The Order? What is happening to Ian's life? Regardless of the question, Mickey had no answer. He was just as clueless as Ian in this whole thing. 

But none of that mattered, because this feeling right here, laying in this bed, watching Ian watching him, his eyes soft and his lips parted, this feeling was worth the uncertainty. Mickey didn't know what was happening, but he knew he wasn't ready for it to stop. He wasn't ready to walk away. And he certainly wasn't going to leave Ian unprotected and in the cross-hairs of The Order. 

"I don't know." Mickey replied lowly, his hand reaching up to cup the back of Ian's head. He ran his tattooed fingers through Ian's fiery red hair, incredibly pleased when Ian's eyes slipped shut as he surrendered to the sensation. "I don't know what any of this is, or what it means, or what's going to happen, but I do know I want you around for it. I want....shit, Ian, I want everything." Mickey said, surprising them both with his words. 

Ian smiled, kissing Mickey quickly once before pulling away. "I want that too." Ian whispered, smiling shyly. "But what does that mean, really? I mean, not to sound like an idiot, but how would it work, between us? With you being..." 

"What?" Mickey chuckled, smiling. "Upir?" 

"Well, yeah. " Ian replied, cocking an eyebrow. "What else is there?" 

"Well, just like what I said about your Bipolar, my Upirism does not define me. I know it's a big thing, especially for someone like you, so new to this world. But I am like any other man in most ways. I have fears and doubts. Flaws and insecurities. I do drink human blood to survive, that is part of me. Along with a long list of other things that you may consider deal breakers, but beyond all that, I'm just a man, like any other." 

"I know that, but it can't be that simple. I don't mean to sound like a pussy right now, but I'm kind of scared of you..." Ian's voice tapered off at the end, embarrassed. He didn't want to be afraid of Mickey, but it was hard to overlook the facts of the situation. Mickey was a predator, and he fed on human beings. Ian knew next to nothing about Upirs, and what he did know from their recent research was disconcerting to put it mildly. 

"I know that." Mickey sighed, unable to keep the sadness out of his voice. "And you'd be right to be wary. Most Upirs are just how you imagine them. My father was a prime example of that. He saw human beings as food, as playthings. To be used, consumed, then tossed aside. But I have never subscribed to that philosophy. I have never seen humans as below me, or as things to merely devour."

"Oh no." Ian shook his head, his eyes wide. "I don't think you'd ever..." but Mickey cut him off, squeezing his neck to silence him. 

"I can't promise you much, Ian. But I can promise you this: I will always respect your wishes, and I will never take advantage of you. I will never mesmerize you, and I will never feed from you, unless you want me to." 

"Why would I ever want that?" Ian asked, perplexed. That sounded horrific. 

"You'd be surprised." Mickey chuckled. "But that's a conversation for another day." Mickey smiled, tightening his grip on Ian's neck as he gazed into his eyes. Ian could lose himself in Mickey's eyes so easily. He'd gladly get lost in them forever. 

The thought startled Ian, but he just let it slide over him, too full of hope and excitement to dwell on his anxieties at the moment. 

"So, would you be interested in that?" Mickey asked, not even bothering to hide how hopeful he was. "Us getting to know each other better? Going up against The Order together? Are you willing to risk the life that you know, the stability you worked so hard for, to jump into the abyss with me?" 

Ian smiled, mirroring Mickey's action, combing his fingers through his dark locks. Mickey's eyes slipped shut, an embarrassing purr slipping past his lips. 

Yes, Ian should be scared. Yes, Ian should be worried about his mental health, the life he's trying to rebuild. Ian should want to stay as far away from this shit as humanly possible. Ian should walk away from Mickey and all the chaotic, violent danger that comes along with him. 

But Ian's not scared. He doesn't want to run. He doesn't want to keep his distance. He doesn't want any of that shit. 

What he wants is Mickey. He's known it on some level for a while now, but after this conversation, after being so close to Mickey, feeling his body, kissing his lips, it's painfully clear. 

He wants Mickey. And whatever comes along with him. 

"Do you want to stay the night?" Ian whispers, smiling shyly, like some idiot schoolboy. 

Mickey smiles back, wide and uninhibited. He can't believe this. He can't believe after all he's told Ian, after all Ian has seen in the short time they've known each other, that Ian is still willing to give him the time of day. 

There's still so much to worry about, still so much to figure out and deal with. But in this moment, none of that shit matters. 

For the first time in Mickey's long, miserable existence, he's excited. He's hopeful. He's almost fucking happy. 

So all that other bullshit can wait until the sun comes up. 

"Yeah." Mickey says, burying his face in Ian's neck and inhaling deeply. Ian's scent was quickly becoming addictive. "I'd love to stay the night."

 

***

 

Ian wakes up alone. He groans quietly, stretching in the bed. He feels the cold sheets all around him, the early morning sun filtering through his window, warming his face. 

He wonders idly if this is going to be his life now. Cryptic, realistic dreams about the enigmatic stranger he wants but can't have. He huffs out a tired laugh. His life is a joke. No that's not right, it's a comedic horror. Those exist, right? 

Ian rolls over to grab his phone. There is something stuck to the screen. Curious. Ian pulls the device free of it's charger and looks at it. 

Stuck to the screen is one of Debbie's post-it notes. It's glittery and shaped like a star. Ian smiles at the message. 

 

-Ian-  
had some business to attend to this morning. if you are free later, call me. i'll come pick you up. new developments in our situation. would like your input. 588-313-0210  
-Mickey-

 

The note is not romantic or sexy. It's actually quite impersonal. But Ian latches onto it all the same. 

Mickey was really at his house last night. Mickey was in his bed. Mickey said all those amazing things to him last night. Mickey likes him. Mickey trusts him to help with The Order. 

It's so much. It's everything. And for the first time since Billy's death, Ian has hope. That things may just work out okay. 

It's still scary. He's still afraid he's going to fuck it all up somehow. Hurt Lip or himself. Ruin everything. But Ian wants to try. Mickey believing in him makes it feel possible. 

Ian unsticks the post-it and tucks the note away in his nightstand drawer before glancing at his phone. It's a little after nine in the morning, and he has the day off. He smiles to himself as he saves Mickey's number in his phone and shoots off a text. 

 

me: hey. just woke up. pick me up in an hour?

 

He drops the phone back down on the nightstand before dispensing out his morning meds. Lithium, Depakote, Risperaldal. Mood stabilizer, anticonvulsant, anti-psychotic. Because Ian is an unstable, jumpy, psychotic motherfucker. He grimaces as he tosses the pills back with a mouthful of Gatorade. He hates himself, in this moment. Just this one moment where it is so painfully obvious that he is fucked up. He hates it, and he never wants anyone else to see it. 

Fuck. 

He shakes off the negative thoughts, throwing himself off the bed and lurching toward the bathroom. 

The house is still empty. Ian can't remember at time when the house has felt this empty. The silence is deafening, and Ian's thoughts are loud in his head. He opens up Pandora on his phone, cuing up his favorite classic rock station before turning on the shower and stripping his clothes. He hops under the warm stream, tipping his head back to wet his hair. The water cascaded down his body as he twisted and turned under the spray, sighing in relief as his muscles loosened and his mind went blank. The sound of Jefferson Airplane filled the steamy air as Ian washed his hair before soaping up his body. 

As he cleaned himself his mind inevitably fell back to Mickey. Why did he leave so early? What was this business he had to attend to? Ian's mind is off and running, turning and twisting down all kinds of dark and disturbing tangents. 

Ian's trying to stay positive. Trying to tap into that bright, confident energy he feels when Mickey is around. Ian feels stronger and more sure when he's with Mickey. Less afraid. Less anxious. Ian's not sure why that is, he hardly knows the man. All he does know is that when he's alone, his whole situation feels infinitely more bleak and terrifying. 

Ian sighs, rinsing off the rest of the soap and turning off the water. He throws the shower curtain back, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around his waist. 

He walks back to his room, dressing quickly. He glances at his phone, realizing Mickey should be there to pick him up soon. He ran a hand through his wet hair, grabbing his wallet and phone, along with his travel tin for his meds before making his way down the stairs. 

He was just finishing his coffee when there was a knock on the front door. He grinned to himself before pushing away from the counter and making his way over to the front door. When he opened the door he found Mickey standing on the stoop. The mid-morning sun was high in the sky, reflecting off the aviator shades Mickey had perched on his nose. Ian's mouth went dry as he took in the man before him. Ian's not usually a fan of funeral chic, but god does Mickey made all black look hot. Black button down shirt, black slacks, black overcoat. Damn. 

"You're really trying to sell that vampire look, huh?" Ian chuckled, moving past Mickey and closing the door behind him. 

"You seriously making fun of the way I dress right now?" Mickey shot back, lowering his shades to get a better look at Ian's outfit. "You look like you just fell off an Abercrombie billboard. 

Ian balked, glancing down at his outfit. Distressed skinny jeans, navy blue button up, heather gray hoodie. Did that scream 'abercrombie'? Maybe. Ian shook his head, chuckling "Fuck off." 

"Truth hurts, Red. Get in." Mickey laughed, hitting the keyless entry on the car and sliding into the drivers seat of the Impala. Ian shook his head, trying to temper his smile as he dropped down into the passenger seat, closing the door behind him and fastening his seat belt. 

Mickey started the car and pulled away from the curb. He turned on the stereo, bobbing his head along to the pounding beat of Static-X. 

They drove for a long time, just silently enjoying each other's company. Ian didn't want to break the spell with his inane questions, but he was really curious as to what Mickey had learned. 

They were almost at Mickey's house, and Ian couldn't take it anymore. He opened his mouth to speak, but Mickey cut him off, clearly decided at the same moment Ian did that they had had enough silence. 

"Sorry I took off on you this morning." Mickey said, glancing over quickly before turning back to the road. "Mandy called early this morning, Katie finally showed up at the house. I had to get back as soon as possible." 

"Oh, she finally showed up?" Ian asked, eager for some progress in their little endeavor. "What did she say?" 

"All kinds of shit." Mickey laughed, shaking his head. "Your brother is really excitable, you know that?" 

Ian chuckled sadly. Yeah, excitable was one way to put it. "Is he finally figuring some shit out?" he asked. "About his condition." 

Mickey nodded, plucking a cigarette from the pack in the console and placing it between his lips, lighting it. "Yeah. Katie had some old information from an ancient Norse text. He hasn't put it down since she handed it to him. Although, between you and I, I don't think he's going to find any answers in those papers." 

"No?" Ian asked, glancing over toward Mickey. Even driving, he was a sight. One arm out the open window, the other hand lazily bringing the cigarette to him mouth periodically. He drove with his knee, which would usually scare Ian, but with Mickey, Ian felt nothing but safe. 

"No." Mickey shook his head. "In my experience, those old books are mostly fairy tales and horror stories. You can't trust a word that was written back then, since it was all written either as entertainment, or as part of a scare campaign by the church. You know what I mean?" 

Ian nodded, considering. "So it's like supernatural propaganda?" 

Mickey laughed, smiling. "Yeah, it's exactly like that." 

"Well, then why do all this research then? What's the point?" 

"Well," Mickey started, taking a long drag of his cigarette before passing it to Ian. "For every tall tale and useless falsehood, there is a nugget of truth. And that one tiny bit of information can make all the difference." 

"So what did Katie bring that you don't already have?" Ian asked, his brain scrambling to take in all this new information. 

"She brought us some documents that once belonged to The Order. It is imperative for us to know who or what we are going up against. The Order kept meticulous records, until they disappeared years ago. If they are really back, those old records will help us track them, hopefully lead us right to this new cell. That way we can nip this in the bud, and focus wholly on helping your brother." 

"You really think it will be that easy?" Ian asked disbelievingly. 

"No." Mickey shook his head, glancing over toward Ian as he took a sharp left turn onto his road. "I think it's going to be very difficult, and very dangerous. That is why it is so imperative that we are informed."

Ian nodded, bringing his hands together in his lap. His fingers twisted together as his mind reeled. This was insane. And it was only going to get worse before it (hopefully) got better. Ian could feel his anxiety swirling in his stomach again, so he closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths, listening to the sounds in the car in an attempt to distract himself. He listened to the hum of the road under the tires, his own breathing, the thudding of his heart and Mickey tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Once Ian had calmed himself well enough, he peeled his eyes open and glanced over at Mickey, who was already looking at him.

"You okay over there?" Mickey asked quietly. Ian nodded, feeling stupid. He needs to get a hold of himself, or Mickey and Lip are going to bench him.

"Yeah, just thinking." Ian replies, which is true. Thinking is all he's been doing for days now. 

"So, just a heads up." Mickey said lowly, running a hand over his mouth. "Your brother is pretty pissed right now."

"Oh yeah?" Ian asked, not really surprised. "I figured he'd still be pissed. But he's just gonna have to get over it. I am not backing down. Especially not now." 

Especially not now that Ian knows the gravity of this situation. Now that they are certain a clandestine death squad came out of retirement just to assassinate his brother. Now that he knows Mickey. Now that he knows what is at stake. There is no way Ian is going to walk away. 

Lip will just have to deal with it. 

"I can't wait to see Lip's face when you tell him that shit." Mickey laughed. Lip had been in an utter tizzy ever since Mickey had told him he'd seen Ian. Lip had gone ballistic on Mickey, accusing him of going behind his back to lure Ian into danger. He'd accused Mickey of thinking with his dick, or his fangs, whatever. He'd accused Mickey of seducing Ian toward certain death. 

Mickey had laughed in his face, then walked away. It would certainly be no good if Mickey beat the shit out of Ian's brother, especially since they are all supposed to be on the same team now. 

Ian's not looking forward to talking to Lip either. He's certain it will be a never ending circular argument, where Ian makes his case over and over, and Lip keeps spitting the same tired counterpoints at him. Usually, Ian would give up, let Lip think he'd won, just to end the fight. 

But not this time. Ian is not going to roll over. Not even for his big brother. Ian knows he's in the right this time, and once all is said and done, Lip will thank him for not giving up. 

Ian is sure of it. 

Just as they are pulling into the driveway, Ian's phone goes off. He pulls the device out of his sweat shirt pocket and glances at the screen. 

Fiona. 

"It's my sister." Ian says, swiping his finger across the screen and putting the phone to his ear. Mickey sits in the driver's seat, keys in his palm. He stares straight ahead, giving Ian the illusion of privacy. 

"Hey Fi." Ian says, bracing himself for what he knows is coming. 

"Ian, where are you? Where's Lip? I haven't seen you guys in weeks." Fiona's harried voice travels over the line. Ian can see her, in his mind's eye, flitting around the kitchen, stirring pots and pouring drinks all while she goes over bills and sorts the laundry. Queen of multi-tasking, that's his sister.

"I was home last night. Where were you?" Ian replies, because it's true. He's been home more in the past month than anyone else in the house combined. 

"I was at the apartment." Fiona replies. Ian hears her drop something on the other end, hears her mutter a hushed 'shit' under her breath. "Are you with Lip right now?" she asks. 

"Not yet, but I'm on my way to see him now." Ian replies, keeping his answers purposefully vague. "Why?" 

"Oh, I just haven't seen him all that much since he was sick." Fiona says. Ian can tell she's not being honest. He can tell she's dancing around what she really wants to say. "It was just so weird, you know? You guys go out, that kid died, then Lip gets sick. He got better so fast, then all of the sudden we don't see you guys anymore. Makes me wonder, y'know?" 

Ian sighs heavily, looking over to see Mickey watching him with raised eyebrows. He leans forward in his seat, rubbing his eyes tiredly. 

"No, I don't know." Ian responds, unsure what to say to his older sister. He knows it must look strange to someone on the outside, it must look very strange indeed. But Ian knows it's safer to keep his family in the dark. And he knows Lip agrees with him. "I don't know what the hell you are implying right now."

"Ian, you would tell me if something was wrong, right? You'd trust me to help you?" Ian can hear the worry in Fiona's voice clear as day. He wants to tell her. He hates lying to Fiona, but he can't risk her life by telling her the truth. He just can't. 

"Of course, Fi." Ian says, trying his best to convey sincerity while lying through his teeth. 

"Ian, you know drugs can really mess up your Bipolar, right?" Fiona asks out of the blue. "If you and Lip are strung out on something, you need to tell me." 

"What?" Ian balked, glancing over at Mickey who was watching him carefully. 

What Ian doesn't know is that Mickey can hear Fiona's words clear as day. He maintains a neutral expression, although he's thoroughly amused. It's not funny, not really. But it's always the same with humans. The moment things start to turn down a supernatural route, drugs is the first thing everyone thinks. 

"Ian, I saw you and Lip go with those people. They didn't look right. I got a bad feeling about them. And if they are getting you guys into crack or heroin or whatever, you need to tell me, and stay the fuck away from them."

Mickey turns away, casting his eyes out the window. He's used to people being afraid of him. He's used to having that effect on people. What Fiona felt when she saw Mickey and his siblings was her human survival instinct kicking in. It happens to Mickey a lot. Upirs give off very strong energy. Enticing and frightening at the same time. 

"Fiona, those people are our friends. And I can tell you with absolute honesty that I've never once seen them doing drugs. They are not bad people, Fiona. And I have to say, it's not like you to be so quick to judge." 

Fiona sighed on the other line as Mickey preened at Ian's words. It was nice to hear him stand up for Mickey. Felt good. 

"I just worry." Fiona repeated. "I never see you guys, and something just doesn't feel right." 

Ian glanced over at Mickey again, finding him looking back this time. Ian smiled, then sighed. Fiona wasn't wrong. Things are not right at the moment. 

But Ian was gonna fix it.  
He wishes he could just tell her. 

"Fiona, you need to relax." he says instead, feeling shitty for lying. Fiona is just looking out for them, and it's painful to let her think she's crazy. "We're fine. We'll be home later. Will you be there?" 

"I don't know." Fiona replied. "Just call me. I'd really like to hear all this from Lip too. I feel like I haven't talked to him in ages."

"Will do, Fi. Don't worry." 

"I'm always gonna worry, Ian. I love you." 

"Love you too, bye." Ian said, ending the call and looking over at Mickey. 

"I hate to lie to her." he mumbled sadly. 

"Well, unfortunately, lying is your only option." Mickey replied, reaching out and gripping Ian's knee. They just stared at each other for a moment, Mickey's hand rubbing Ian's kneecap gently. 

"C'mon. Your brother has all kinds of crazy shit he wants to tell you. Gonna blow your mind, Gallagher." 

Ian smiled, lurching forward on instinct. He gripped Mickey around the back of his head, pulling him into a passionate kiss. 

Mickey startled at first, but melted into the kiss easily. He let Ian lead it, parting Mickey's lips with his tongue. 

Mickey's chest was crackling with white hot sparks. The Pull radiating through his body and solidifying between them as they lost themselves in the kiss. 

Ian leans over the armrest, desperate to get closer to Mickey. He laces his fingers through Mickey's hair, pulling tightly as he licks into his mouth hungrily. He feels drunk all of the sudden. His whole body is vibrating with a bubbling current of electricity. The feeling started in his chest, right behind his heart, growing and multiplying until his whole body was alight with iridescent ecstasy. Ian has never felt anything like it in his entire life, and when Mickey pulls back, Ian feels dizzy and a little cold.

"What was that?" Ian asks, staring into Mickey's eyes like the answer to all his questions is held in those deep blue irises. 

Mickey just smiles, shaking his head. "Not sure. But we will figure it out. C'mon. Everyone's waiting." with that he turns around and exits the car, leaving Ian reeling in his wake. 

Figure it out? Okay then. 

Ian scrambles to follow Mickey into the house, grabbing his backpack and slamming the car door shut so he can hustle up the walk after Mickey, not wanting any distance between them. 

 

***

 

Mickey leads Ian into the library and is shocked at what he finds beyond the large mahogany doors. 

Not only is his sister canoodling with Katie in front of the fireplace, but they're sucking face over an open book, clearly using research as an excuse to get all up on each other. 

Then there are the men, on the other side of the room. Lip and Iggy are sitting at the circular table in front of the bay window. The table is still littered with documents and old books, pens and highlighters sharing the space with an overflowing ashtray and a collection of empty beer bottles. 

Lip looks up when they walk in. His eyes fall on Ian and his face twists into an angry scowl. Mickey knew Lip was gonna throw a fit over him going and getting Ian, but Mickey doesn't give a fuck. If Ian wants to be here, he's gonna be here. 

So no, he's not surprised Lip is pissed, he'll deal with that bullshit later. 

What takes Mickey by surprise is the addition of Lucas to the mix. Mickey has never invited Lucas to his home, and with good reason. He does not bring lovers or his feeding partners home. It's one of his most ardent rules. 

"Luke, what are you doing here?" Mickey asks, clearly confused and honestly a little irritated. He does not have time for this. 

"Your sister called me." Lucas says, crossing the room to stand in front of Mickey. "She says you want me to keep an eye out for some mysterious SUV?" he chuckled, taking a step closer to Mickey. Too close for Mickey's comfort, actually. "But honestly, how vague can you be? I took the description, but do you know how many black Escalades there are in the greater Chicago area?" Lucas smiled, his eyes raking over Mickey's face. "But I have to say, it's nice to finally see where you live. Can't believe you never invited me over." 

Mickey glanced from Lucas to Ian, who was standing next to his brother now, an unreadable expression on his face. He knows Lucas must recognize Ian and Lip from the search Mickey had him do. But Lucas doesn't mention it. He just glares at Ian like he wants to pull out his service pistol and end him. Mickey clears his throat uncomfortably. "Yeah, sorry about that, but as you can see, we're kinda in the middle of something here, so..." Mickey trailed off awkwardly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

In that moment, he very much regrets giving Mandy Lucas's number. It was good for the family to have a cop on speed-dial in case of emergencies, but this does not qualify as such to Mickey. He shoots Mandy an irritated glare, but she just gives him a wicked smile before resuming her heavy petting session with her playmate. 

Bitch. 

"Oh." Lucas replied, stepping back. A hurt expression flitting over his face before disappearing all together. He gave Mickey a tight lipped smile, glancing toward Ian again quickly. "Yeah, sure. I have to get to work anyway. Crime waits for no man." Lucas chuckles awkwardly waving to Mandy and Kate. The girls waved back, all smiles. Lucas waved to the other men in the room, his eyes staying on Ian for a beat longer than the others before focusing solely on Mickey again. "Well, okay then. Let me know if you need any more help, okay? You know I'm always willing to lend a hand." Lucas reached up and trailed his fingers down Mickey's arm, squeezing his wrist gently before dropping it and backing out of the room. "I'll show myself out. Bye." 

"Um, bye." Mickey said quietly. 

Once Mickey heard the door click shut, he rounded on his sister. "Mandy, what the fuck?" 

Mandy looked up at Mickey, a devious smile on her face. "What? He's a cop, I figured who better to track these stalker pricks?" 

"Yeah, Mands." Iggy laughed. "But if he's gonna track 'em, we need information. Car make, model, year. Fucking license plate. Anything. He got here and you're all like 'It's black, with four doors." Iggy raised his eyebrows. "I mean, seriously?" 

Mandy huffed, smacking Katie on the shoulder when she started laughing. 

Ian was confused. How did the Milkovichs know this guy? Did this cop know their secret? Did he know about the Order? And what was up with him and Mickey? 

Ian didn't have the answer to any of those questions, and the fact that he was so clueless had him anxious. 

"Ian, man, what are you doing here?" Lip asked, once he was sure that fucking cop was gone. "I told you to stay away." 

"Yeah, you did." Ian said, all thoughts of the mysterious cop leaving his mind as his anger at his brother returned now that they were face to face again. "You also told me a lot of shit that wasn't true." Ian glared at his brother. 

"Oh, come the fuck on, Ian. You know I'm right. This situation is not safe for you. Hell, this house isn't safe for you." he glanced over at the Milkovich siblings, who were all sitting around the table with Katie now. "No offense, guys, but I have to protect my brother." 

Mickey scoffed. He didn't mean to, it just kind of slipped out, but before he could respond to Lip's words, Katie spoke, surprising the whole room. 

"If I may." Katie said, standing from the table and making her way over to the Gallagher brothers. She stood in front of Lip and Ian, arms crossed over her chest. "Hi, I'm Katie. You must be Ian. I've heard so much about you already. It's nice to meet you." she offered her hand, and Ian took it, returning her smile. She glanced at Lip before locking eyes with Ian. "I have known Mandy and her brothers since I was sixteen. I have known their true nature for most of that time. I have spent countless nights in this house, or in one just like it, in their company. I have never once felt threatened or afraid. I have never felt the need to protect myself from them, or distance myself from them. Quite the contrary, actually. Mandy and her brothers have been like family to me. They helped me when I left the convent, when I had no one to turn to and nowhere to go. When my family disowned me, and I finally freed myself of the convent, it was Mandy, Mickey and Iggy who helped me rebuild my life." she smiled at Mandy before focusing on Lip again. "So, please, don't be fearful. No harm will come to you here. I can personally attest to that." 

Ian smiled at Katie. She seemed like a very nice girl. She was on the shorter side, with short blond hair cut into a bob. He tiny frame was lithe, with pronounced muscles and pale skin. She had warm hazel eyes and a kind smile. 

"That's all well and good, but that's not my only concern, and it's frankly none of your business." Lip countered, growing irritated. He wished these assholes would just listen to him. Ian was his brother. His responsibility. 

He needed to protect him.

"Lip, listen to me." Ian said, laying a gentle hand on Lip's shoulder. "I know you are looking out for me. And I appreciate it, I really do. But I'm an adult. I'm totally sane, taking my meds, and I'm stable. You can see that, right?" he waited, eyebrows raised. 

Lip huffed, nodding. "Yeah. I can see that." 

"Good." Ian smiled. "Thank you for saying that." 

Lip nodded again, opening his mouth to speak again, but Ian cut him off. "That being said, I am in this. I am going to do whatever I can to help, and you have to be okay with that. No more lying to me. No more trying to come between Mickey and I. No more games."

"You and Mickey?" Lip scoffed, shaking his head. "You are joking, right? Ian, you barely know him. He's not even human for fucks sake." 

"Oh." Ian said, glancing toward Mickey. "So, what, because he's not exactly like me, we can't be friends? Or can we be friends but not lovers? Where do you draw the line, Lip? And is that line the same for you? Are you never going to be friends with another human again? Never fuck another human girl? Are you strictly going to screw other werewolves? How are you going to go about that?" 

Lip rolled his eyes, but Ian's point was made. 

"Ian, I just want you to be okay. Safe. You have to know that." 

Mickey watched the interaction, wisely keeping his mouth shut. The rest of the room was watching the brothers with rapt attention. Iggy's eyes were bright like he was waiting for one of the brothers to throw a punch. Mickey elbowed him in the ribs and he went back to focusing on his paperwork. 

"I do know that, Lip. And I appreciate it. But this is our life right now, and we are going to go through it together." 

Lip sighed, defeated. "Fine. Whatever. Where were we with this research?" 

Ian let out a relieved breath, his shoulders slumping. He smiled at his brother, pulling him into a tight hug in the middle of the room. He ignored the giggles and cooing from the girls in favor of hugging his brother tighter to his chest. 

Now that he knew Lip wasn't going to fight him on this anymore, Ian felt so much more at ease. 

Lip pulled out of the hug, turning toward Mickey with hard eyes. "You hurt my brother, I'll find a way to kill you." 

Mickey chuckled, nodding. "Sure thing, chief." 

 

***

 

After Ian and Lip's little stand off, the group got back to business. Lip, Mandy and Katie sitting around the table by the window, once again immersed in their research. Ian and Mickey are laying on the floor, going over old documents Katie brought them from her secret stash of stolen files. 

Iggy had taken off hours ago. Ian's starting to think he had the right idea. 

Ian can barely keep his eyes open. Mickey had warned him these documents were dry, but they were going through years worth of stupid shit, looking for a needle in a haystack. 

Ian's not even sure what they are looking for. It's all so vague to him. They don't know who or what they are looking for. They don't know where to start. 

Jesus, Ian could be looking at the answer right now and he wouldn't know. 

"Has anyone seen the Order's roster from 1978?" Lip asks, drawing his brother's attention toward him. Lip looks tired too. They've been at this for a long time now. "I know I saw something there." 

"Like anything from the seventies would be of help to us." Mandy scoffed, standing. "All those priests would be in their nineties now." 

Lip scowled. "You don't know that. Besides, some of these dead priests could be related to the ones in the Order now. It's a family tradition, it seems. I keep seeing the same names, generation after generation." 

"So, like the military?" Ian asked, propping his head up on his hand. "Like, grandfather, father, son, all Marines. Except with assassin monks." 

Mickey chuckled, batting Ian's shoulder with the back of his hand. "Quite a legacy to pass down, huh?" 

Ian laughed, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. He can't imagine living a life like that. Growing up in a cult, knowing from childhood that you had no choice, that you were destined to be a killer, whether you wanted it or not. 

Ian can't imagine believing in a God that would sanction the murder of someone based solely on a condition they couldn't control. Ian would understand if the Order took out monsters like Terry only. Creatures with no respect for life, human or otherwise. Real monsters. But reading these documents, it was clear that the Order had a zero tolerance policy concerning supernatural creatures. 

Ian read account after account. In 1911, the Order burned an eleven year old girl to death because she could move things with her mind. Witch. Devil worshiper. That's what her file said. 

Her name was Emilia, and she was crying in the photo attached to her file. 

There were endless stories just like that, page after page. So much death and destruction. Ian got sick just reading it. 

Hereditary werewolf twins decapitated outside Nebraska, on their fifteenth birthday, right after their first turn. They had never harmed a soul. Put to death because they were 'an abomination before God.' 

A young pregnant witch, shot outside a hospital in Detroit, 1945. There was no list of crimes attached to her file. She was accused of preforming miracles outside the Church. She was a healer, it seemed. She restored a young boy's sight right before her death. 

Her file said 'miracles are the work of our Lord Jesus and his disciples. Not unwed mothers.'

Sure, there were also real monsters in these files. Vampire clans that annihilated entire families. Witches that killed babies for blood sacrifices. Werewolves who used their turns to wreak havoc on their enemies, brutally murdering them and getting away with it. Who's going to arrest an animal for murder, after all?

But for every file Ian read containing a horrific story like that, there were at least two more files that never should have been written. 

Innocent people, hunted and executed, all in the name of God and sanctioned by the Holy Father himself. 

Ian was appalled. It was clear to Ian in that moment that the Order had to be stopped. Their view of the world was too rigid. Too black and white. Too good and evil. 

The Order would execute Mickey and his family solely because they are Upir, even though they don't take life. The Order is after his brother, trying to kill him, only because he is a werewolf now. Even though Lip hasn't hurt anyone. 

Ian can't let that happen. He won't let that happen. 

The only problem is, the awful stories don't get them any closer to finding the Order today. Old names and dates and addresses mean shit. They need something current. 

Ian groans, sitting up. Mickey glances up at him, closing his book. 

"Need a break?" Mickey asks. 

"Yeah." Ian nodded, pushing his papers away so he could sit up. 

"That's the best idea I've heard all day." Mandy sighed, standing from the table, grabbing Katie's hand and dragging her to stand. "Who wants a drink?" with that the girls left the library, whispering conspiratorially the whole way.

"A drink sounds good." Lip agreed, quickly standing and following the girls out of the room.

"I guess we're all taking a break." Mickey chuckled, standing quickly before offering Ian his hand. Ian took it, and Mickey lifted him off the floor like he weighed nothing. Ian was still trying to get used to these little things about Mickey. Things that made him different. 

His incredible strength, his heightened senses, his speed. 

Sometimes, it frightened Ian, how different Mickey was. How he was built to be a predator. Stronger, faster then anyone around him. 

But other times, times like right now, Ian was incredibly turned on by it. It was a strange feeling for Ian. He's used to being the strong one in his relationships with men. He's dominant by nature, doesn't like to be coddled or controlled. A man exerting their strength or power over him is usually incredibly unappealing to him. 

But with Mickey, it's different for some reason. Ian likes the fact that Mickey is so strong. Could probably toss him around no problem. Ian's never wanted that with anyone else. 

Ian shakes his head, following Mickey out of the room with the others. He needs to get his head out of the gutter and into the game. 

Katie is mixing drinks by the time Ian makes his way to sit on the small couch by the window in the living room. 

It's the same spot he was sitting in the first night he came to Mickey's house. Lip's first turn. It was only a little under a month ago now, but it feels like a different life all together. 

Ian is drawn out of his thoughts when Mickey sits down next to him, handing him a glass. It's whiskey. Always whiskey in this house. Ian takes the glass with a nod of thanks, taking a small sip before resting the glass on his knee. 

He looks around the room. Everyone looks tired. Drained. Worn down. Mandy and Katie are sitting next to each other on the couch opposite where Ian is seated with Mickey. Lip is in an armchair in front of the fireplace. 

"Feels like only yesterday I was sitting here for the first time. Right before my turn." Lip muttered, almost to himself. He took a long sip of his drink, grimacing as the dark liquid slid down his throat. 

Ian's not surprised to find his brother's thinking the same thing Ian is. Reliving the same memories. Sometimes he thinks he's attuned to his brother in some way. Connected. 

After everything they've been through in the past few weeks, Ian's ready to believe just about anything.

Nothing is impossible. Not anymore. 

"This is where I sat too, my first time here." Katie said, surprising Ian. Ian doesn't know much about Katie as a person. They just met, after all. All he does know is what Mickey told him that one time, in the car. 

Katie was forced into a convent when her parents discovered she was gay. Tragic, fucked up shit. She somehow found her way into the Milkovich fold. 

Come to think of it, that story had quite a bit of holes in it. Ian was suddenly very curious. 

"How, how did you come to be friends with these guys?" Ian heard himself ask. He almost wanted to take it back. He was a stranger to this girl. Maybe she didn't want Ian all up in her private business. Her personal, sad story.

But Katie just smiled, tucking a lock of platinum hair behind her ear as she glanced over at Mandy. 

"Well, it's kind of a funny story." she laughed. 

"No, it's really not." Mandy said, reaching over to cup her hand over Katie's knee. "It's fucked up is what it is." 

Ian could feel his face growing hot, embarrassment taking over. "Oh, I didn't..." 

"No, it's fine." Katie said, still smiling. "I don't mind." 

"You were a hot mess." Mickey chuckled, losing himself in the memory. 

Lip sat back, sipping his drink. He had a feeling this was going to be a long story. 

Wonderful. 

"Well, I was sixteen, I had been at the convent for a little over a year. It was not at all what I expected...."

 

***

 

Chicago Illinois, 2011

Katie glances around, trying to keep her face concealed. She paranoid and afraid. She can't shake this horrible feeling that Sister Pete is going to pop out of somewhere and drag her back to St. Lucia's. 

Katie had been at the convent for nine months at this point. Nine torturous months, during which time she'd been beaten and starved. Forced to pray for hours on end, naked in a cold room, kneeling on rice. It was incredibly painful, and she had the tiny white scars dotting her kneecaps to prove it. Those scars fit in nicely with all the others she acquired at the convent. Belt marks on her back and thighs, burns on her arms, small cuts on her neck, her breasts. 

Sister Pete was surprisingly sadistic. Katie wonders sometimes how Jesus would feel about that.

When she was not being demeaned or tortured by the sisters, she was working. It had started at housework. Cleaning, cooking, organizing. She was an unpaid maid. Indentured servant. Slave. 

But when word got out that Katie spoke Latin, the mop was replaced with a computer, and the real work began. 

Katie doesn't know much about Catholicism. Her father is agnostic, it's her mother that's devout. They had raised Katie in the church, but she started to rebel against her mother's religion around the same time she discovered she was a lesbian. 

How could Katie be expect to worship a god who preached that she was inherently damaged? A sinner? An abomination? 

She couldn't. She wouldn't. 

Her parents had been lenient with her. Allowing her to skip services, only ever showing up for high holy days and confession. 

Confession, what a joke. 

But it all came to a head one day last June. Katie's parents had been out. Choir practice. It was supposed to last until late in the night. 

Katie had thought she was safe, having Eve over the house. They weren't even doing all that much, in the grand scheme of things. Making out. A little bit of innocent petting. 

Katie didn't even get to second base that night. 

But none of that mattered when Katie's mother walked in to find Eve straddling her daughter's lap, the two girls engaged in a passionate kiss. 

Katie still isn't sure how it all happened. One minute she was begging her mother to 'Please, just listen...', and the next she was in the back of her father's station wagon, on her way to St. Lucia's. 

Katie hadn't spoken to Eve again after that. She hadn't spoken to her parents either. It was like her life before the convent was a dream, and she had woken up to this new, bleak reality. 

That was months ago now. Katie had a plan, though. There's no way in hell she's gonna spend her life as a virgin bride of Christ. Besides, the convent was hell on earth, ironically. The beatings, the slave labor, the constant indoctrination. Katie could recite all the mysteries of the rosary now. She dreamed about that shit. 

Katie's had enough. That's the bottom line. She's sixteen now, and she can make it on her own. So she packed up her shit. (one miserable little bag, all her worldly possessions back at her parents house) and climbed out the window. It was a cold November night in Chicago, and Katie had no idea where she was going next. All she knew was she had to put some serious distance between herself and the sisters. 

That's how she ended up at Vic's. A diner on the south side. The neighborhood was rough, but that was the point. The sisters would never risk coming down here to look for her. 

It was a scary place. 

Katie sat at the counter, sipping her cold coffee. She used all her money to buy that coffee. One dollar. Now she was well and truly broke, and out of ideas. She had no clue how to survive on her own. Where was she going to sleep? How was she going to make money? Does this mean she'll never go back to school? College? Have any kind of future? Was she going to die out here, on the Chicago streets? 

God, what did she do? She didn't think this through at all. 

Katie's eyes start to burn. Her throat tightens up and her hands start to shake. A hot, fat tear slips out of her eye, followed by another and another. At that moment she feels so young. Just a scared little girl, who wants her mother. 

"Hey there, you doing okay?" a warm, gentle voice startles Katie and she jumps, spinning on her stool. Standing right beside her is a woman. A beautiful woman. Katie's eyes widen as she takes in the gorgeous creature before her. She's got porcelain white skin, which makes her ice blue eyes all the more vibrant. Katie's eyes travel down the stranger's body, shamelessly taking in her deep blue dress and tan trench coat. She's got long, supple legs, framed impeccably by black stilettos. 

Katie was amazed. She's never seen someone so beautiful. 

She was so busy ogling the woman, she totally missed the question. "Excuse me, what?" 

The woman smiled, cocking her head to the side. "I asked if you were doing okay? You look a little blue." 

Katie smiled sadly. Was she really that easy to read? "I've had a run of bad luck." she mumbled quietly. 

The woman sat down next to her, waving the waitress over. "I'm Mandy." she said, offering her hand. 

Katie took it, staring into Mandy's penetrating eyes as she shook it. "Kate." 

"Well, Kate, why don't you tell me what's going on? Maybe I can help." 

Katie opened her mouth to protest. She didn't know this woman, why should she tell her anything? But the words died on her tongue as Mandy held her gaze. 

Suddenly, Katie wasn't scared anymore. She wasn't worried about anything at all. The nuns, being homeless, the loss of her family. None of it mattered in that moment. She felt safe and content, sitting here with this stranger. Like nothing could ever harm her again. 

So she talked. She told Mandy about her parents, and Eve, the convent and the work she did there. She told her about how the nuns tried to turn her straight, with beatings and starvation. How they degraded her and belittled her. How they worked her like a slave, first as a maid, then as a god damn secretary. 

The words came easily, as if she were talking to an old friend. Mandy was very interested in her stories, particularly about the church, and the work they did. 

Katie had discovered some strange things during her tenure as secretary for the Diocese. Bizarre things about witch hunts and exorcisms. So strange, in fact, that she made copies of all the pertinent documents. They were in her backpack at that exact moment, along with her one change of clothes and a hairbrush she stole from sister Peg. 

Katie took the files because she wanted some kind of leverage. If the nuns came for her, she could hold those documents over their heads, make some kind of deal. The papers for her freedom.  


That was the plan, anyway. Katie's never done anything like this before. But it always seemed to work on TV, so... 

"Listen, why don't you just come home with me tonight?" Mandy said, reaching up and placing her hand over Katie's on the counter. "You look like you could use a good night's sleep." 

Katie nodded, smiling softly. There was a small whisper in the back of her mind, that thought: never go home with strangers. Never put yourself in a vulnerable position. 

But the whisper was so small and quiet, overshadowed entirely by warm, secure feeling bubbling in her belly. 

"Yeah, that would be nice..." 

 

***

 

"And the rest is kinda history." Katie laughed, laying her head on Mandy's shoulder. 

"So that's why you left." Ian says, nodding. He can't imagine what that would be like. His parents abandoned him, yes. But Frank and Monica would never turn him over to strangers. Hell, Frank even worked to get them back from DCFS that one time.

Gallaghers don't have much. But they do have family. 

So no, Ian can't fathom what it would feel like to be dumped into a religious sect. Forgotten. 

Not to mention the fact that Katie was thrust into some chaotic underworld of torture and indoctrination. Forced to deny herself, her true nature. Ian spent some time in the closet, albeit short and mostly uneventful. But that was Ian's choice. No one had ever denied him his autonomy. 

Katie and Mickey both had been forced to lie. Forced to be someone they weren't, to appease people who didn't really love them. Didn't love them the way they were born. 

He glanced over at Mickey as his chest tightened. Ian never thought he had an easy life, but looking at Mickey and the other people in this room, he realizes he's been pretty fucking lucky. 

"That was the main reason, yes. The off-book work the church was doing through the Order was incredibly frightening. But I had other issues with the church. They didn't accept me as I was, first of all." Ian nodded, giving Katie a sad smile. It was like she read his mind. "But not only that. You know, Jesus teaches that we are to love each other unconditionally. But I watched St. Lucia's turn away so many people. I've never seen a church do that before. Turn their backs on the downtrodden, people looking for help. Looking for hope." Katie blinked, wiping her eyes. "People who needed God's love the most. Drug addicts, unwed mothers, gay people, people suffering from mental illness or delusions. I didn't understand at the time, but after I put some distance between myself and the church, I realized what was happening." 

"What?" Ian asked, confused. Wasn't it a church's job to look after marginalized people? 

"St. Lucia's wasn't a regular convent. They worked exclusively for the Order. It was a front. The job of the sisters was only to serve the Order. Keep their records, keep the hunters supplied, act as a liaison between the priests of the Order and the people seeking help. So of course there was no time for actual acts of kindness. The convent was too busy killing to do anything else."

"If that's not ironic, I don't know what is." Lip said, shaking his head. Ian glanced up at him, having forgotten that anyone else was in the room. He'd been so immersed in what Katie was saying, he'd tuned out the whole rest of the room. 

Katie nodded, sipping her drink. "Yeah. So after I left I didn't know what to do with myself. Mandy gave me a purpose." 

"What purpose is that?" Lip chuckled, draining his glass before setting it on the low table in front of him. "Exploring your kinky lesbian side?" 

Katie laughed, smiling. "Well, yes. That, as well as fighting back against the Order." she glanced over at Mandy, still smiling. "Mandy and her brothers have been living in fear of the Order for decades. Since well before I was even born. After I met Mandy at the diner, she took me here. We went over all my documents. Mandy and her brothers finally had names to go with the faces of the men who pursued them. Addresses, all that. So it was easier to elude them." 

"So, you never went after them?" Ian asked. "You only used the information to keep a safe distance?" 

Katie nodded. "Back then, the Order was much too strong for us to stand even a fraction of a chance against them. So I did what I could to protect Mandy and her brothers. Then, Francis became Pope, and the Order was disbanded, finally and totally. So there was no need to be so cautious. I lost track of most of the priests. A lot of them are retired, some dead. That's why this is so confusing. The Order shouldn't even exist anymore. I can't even think of a single member who would still be active." 

Ian nodded, his head swimming with all this new information. It made no sense. Katie had been away from the church for a long time. Was it possible that the Order had started up again, and she didn't know? That seemed to be the most likely answer, considering everything that has happened recently. 

The conversation thankfully moved on from the Order. Everyone had been working hard all day, and they needed a break from all that shit. Mandy put some music on, and the group relaxed, just shooting the shit and laughing, trying to pretend for a moment that everything was normal. 

Lip was telling Mandy and Katie about the work he does. He's on medical leave right now, but still stays in touch with his colleagues. Lip is animated as he talks about some important project Ian doesn't understand. Lip's work has always gone right over his head. 

Mickey is still sitting close. Close enough that his knee is resting on Ian's thigh. The simple contact makes Ian's whole body tingle. It's an odd sensation, but Ian's getting used to all the strange feeling Mickey elicits in him.

Ian looks over, and Mickey is watching him already. He's got this dark, ravenous look in his eyes, and Ian's stomach flutters. He doesn't feel like he's looking at a predator right now. That's not the hunger he sees in Mickey's eyes. 

A thought occurs to Ian, and he speaks before he can think better of it. "What's up with that cop? Lucas?" Ian's face heats up as he says the words, and he wishes he could take them back immediately. 

"Luke?" Mickey replies, eyebrows raised. He smiles, shaking his head. "Nothing." 

"Didn't seem like nothing when he was here earlier." Ian countered. He hated how insecure he sounded. How jealous. It's not like he and Mickey were even together. They'd only known each other a short time. Only today had they talked about their mutual attraction. Of course Mickey would have lovers. Men he'd been with in the past. 

But Ian saw the way Lucas looked at Mickey. Plain as day, the cop wanted Mickey. Wanted him all to himself. The way he looked at Ian spoke volumes also, that casual disdain. Like he couldn't even be bothered to dislike Ian. Like Ian was a non-issue, not even worth his worry. 

It was a shitty feeling, and Ian's not ashamed to admit, he needs a little reassurance. 

"Luke is a guy I've known for a long time. He's helped out the family on more than one occasion. He's how I found you, actually." 

"He is?" Ian did not expect that. Is that legal? Can cops do that shit? Look people up without a reason? Ian didn't know, but he felt a little violated. He didn't mind Mickey looking him up, that's how he found them in time to help Lip. But he does not appreciate some vampire groupie cop looking him up like some criminal. What's in that file? Ian had done some fucked up shit before he got medicated, and the idea that Lucas, of all people, could see all that shit humiliates him. Did he tell Mickey? "He looked us up? How much does he know?"

Mickey shook his head. He thought Ian might take that route. "He doesn't know shit. He got the address from the incident report from Starved Rock Park. Do you think I'd really let him do a full background check on you?" 

Mickey's a little hurt that Ian would think that. Like Mickey would ask Lucas to look into him and Lip that way. Mickey wants to know everything about Ian, but not like that. 

"I'm sorry." Ian sighs, feeling like an asshole. "I just have bad history with cops. And it seems like you have quite a history of your own with that particular cop. I saw the way he looked at you, Mickey. I saw the way he looked at me. He wants you. He wants to be with you. And he doesn't like me. He doesn't want you anywhere near me." 

Mickey sighed, leaning in a little closer. He reached out, wrapping his fingers around Ian's wrist. Mickey smiled, unable to contain it. The Pull was thrumming deep inside his gut, spindling out, filling his whole being with a desperate ache. Touching Ian made it better, eased the urge. So he tightened his fingers, reveling in the peace it gave him. Just that simple touch. 

"It doesn't matter what Luke wants or thinks." Mickey said, running his thumb over the back of Ian's wrist. "Yes, we've had some sort of relationship over the past few years. Mutually beneficial is what I would call it. We both get something from it. But it will never be what Lucas wants. He wants something I won't give him."

"A relationship?" Ian asks, suppressing a shudder as Mickey's fingers dance along the back of his hand. 

"Well, that too, I suppose." Mickey nodded, his eyes on his fingers as they ran along Ian's skin. He couldn't take his eyes off it. Ian's skin was so pale, lightly dusted with freckles. His skin was soft, supple. Mickey dragged his nails down Ian's forearm, watching small red lines appear. Ian was so alive, his body so responsive. Mickey can't remember what it felt like to have a scratch, or a bruise. He loves that Ian is so human. It's beautiful. "What he wants is for me to turn him. Make him like me. I won't do that. I never have. I will be no one's maker." 

Ian glanced up at Mickey, confused. "I thought you became Upir through suicide." 

Mickey smiled, shaking his head. He knows how confusing this must be. "No, that's only for half Upirs, born into it like me and my siblings. For anyone else, it's like you see in the movies. A bite from an Upir, and some Upir blood." 

Ian nodded. He can see why becoming a vampire would be enticing. Live forever, special powers, heightened senses. Lucas is probably not the first lover to ask Mickey to change him. 

"So why won't you do it?" Ian asked, curious. Not that he'd want that, but he did want to know why Mickey was so adamant against it. 

"I would never want to condemn someone to this life." Mickey replied, eyes locked with Ian's. He needed him to hear this. To understand. "It's a long, lonely life, Ian. Everyone you love will die one day, and you will be alone. That is the life of an Upir." 

"But Mandy, and Iggy." Ian replied, his eyes flitting over to Mandy, who was still deep in conversation with Lip and Katie. 

"I'm lucky to have them." Mickey agreed, glancing up at Ian with a small smile on his face. "But look over there." he motioned toward his sister. "Mandy loves Kate. She's loved Kate for ages. I have watched Mandy and Kate dance around each other since Kate stumbled into our life. But Kate doesn't want to be turned. Mandy has asked her, many times. Kate might have left the convent, but she hasn't abandoned her god. She expects to be reunited with that god in the afterlife. That's what she wants. To grow old and die. One day, Katie will be just a memory to us. That is the reality of this life." 

Ian nodded, unsure of how to respond to that. 

That sounded terrible. Living a long, endless life, never being able to truly get close to anyone, knowing one day they would all leave you. It sounded lonely, and depressing. 

Ian leaned forward, watching Mickey closely. Mickey smiled, cocking his head to the side. Ian wasn't sure what was happening. Not with Mickey, and not with the Order. He had no clue how all this was going to pan out. But he did know that being close to Mickey made him feel good. Incredible, really. And he just had to get a bit closer. 

He reached out, cupping his hand around the back of Mickey's neck. The rest of the room fell away and it was just the two of them. Ian leaned in, anticipation pooling in his gut. His body trembled with electricity. 

Closer. He had to get closer. 

Their lips barely touched, when the moment was shattered by the shrill ringing of Ian's phone. 

"Shit." Ian said, pulling back so he could dig his phone out of his jeans. Mickey leaned back against the couch, watching Ian closely.

Fiona. Again. 

"Is that Fiona?" Lip asked, seemingly reading Ian's mind. 

"Yeah." Ian said, swiping his finger across the screen and putting the phone to his ear. "Hey Fi." 

"Ian, where are you guys? You promised you'd be home for family dinner. Everyone is here, we're waiting for you guys." 

"Shit." Ian sighed. How could he forget? "Okay, sorry. We're on our way." 

He hung up and glanced over at his brother. "Family dinner." 

"Oh, shit." Lip said, standing quickly. "We gotta go. We promised." 

"Yeah, that's what she said." Ian agreed, reluctantly standing also. He didn't want to go. He wanted to stay right where he was. It was an odd thought, but it was true. 

"I can drive you guys." Katie said, surprising Ian. 

"Um, thanks." Ian replied, unsure of why Mickey couldn't just take them. He turned to Mickey, looking for some kind of direction. 

"If you want to come back, just call. I'll come get you, okay?" Mickey said, standing beside him. His hand reached out, sliding along Ian's forearm, up his shoulder, before resting on the back of his neck. "We're just gonna hang out here." 

"Okay. Sounds good." Ian nodded, taking a reluctant step back. 

Katie lead Lip and Ian out of the house and toward the Camry. Ian kept glancing back toward the house, already missing the feeling he got when he was near Mickey. 

Mickey and Mandy watched the car drive away, standing in the window, side by side. 

"What are you going to do?" Mandy asked as they watched the tail lights of the Camry disappear down the long driveway. 

"I'm going to go out and feed while I have a chance." Mickey replied, turning away from the window. 

"That's not what I mean, and you know it." Mandy said, grabbing Mickey's arm and spinning him around to face her. "You are putting yourself in the same position I'm in. Ian is your Kate." 

"Fuck off." Mickey replied, shaking his sister off. "The situation is not the same, and you know it. Don't put your shit on me. I'm helping Ian and his brother. It has nothing to do with sex or mating or love or any of that shit." 

"If you say so..." Mandy laughed. "C'mon, then. Let's go out and get fed before they call to come back. You don't want to go pick up your new friends covered in blood." 

Mickey laughed, shoving his sister playfully. "You know I never spill a drop, bitch." 

 

***

 

"I'm so glad you guys are here." Fiona smiled, sipping her wine. "I feel like we never see you anymore." 

Ian smiled, glancing over at Lip, who was busy rolling a joint. Dinner had been nice. The whole Gallagher clan together again, save for Carl. He hasn't been home in months. 

It had been an old school Gallagher affair. Food, drinking, dancing. Kev and Vee had been there, with their girls. It had felt like old times. 

This feels like old times too. Ian, Lip and Fiona, sitting around long after everyone else has called it a night. It felt good. Like all that other shit was just a bad dream, and this here was real. 

Lip lit the joint and passed it to Fiona. She took it with a smile, inhaling deeply and holding her hit before passing it to Ian. 

"So, I've been meaning to ask you guys something. But since you're never around anymore, I haven't been able to." 

Ian tensed. On his left he could see Lip having the same reaction. What now? What does Fiona think she knows? 

"Uhm, what's up, Fi?" Lip tries for casual, but Ian can hear the stress in his voice. 

"Well..." Fiona hesitates, and it makes everything that much worse. "Do you guys owe someone money? Drug dealer? Loan shark?" 

Ian's stomach dropped. His eyes flew over to Lip, who had the same horrified look on his face. 

Shit. Keep it together Ian. Fuck. 

"No." Lip replied, his voice surprisingly level. "Why would you ask something like that?" 

"Well, there's been this car parked outside the house for the past few days." Fiona said, holding her hand out for the joint. Ian passed it over, his fingers trembling slightly. 

This is bad. Really bad. 

"Kinda reminded me of Beto. Remember him?" Fiona continued, taking a long hit off the joint before passing it to Lip. "When Jimmy was here, and Beto was watching him for the cartel." 

"Could be a coincidence. Or it could be someone watching another asshole in the neighborhood. It's not like we're the only shady motherfuckers on the block." Lip said, pulling on the joint before moving to pass it to Ian. Ian waved him off. He was stoned enough. He suddenly felt too fucked up. Like he needs a clear head, to be on guard. The Order could be outside right now. 

"Yeah, that's what I thought too." Fiona nodded, picking up her wine glass. "Until some asshole got out of that car and walked up to Liam today." 

Ian's blood ran ice cold. He looked at Lip, who's face had gone ash white. 

"What? What did he say to Liam?" Ian asked, unable to mask the fear in his voice. 

This was bad. Very bad. 

"Not too much." Fiona replied carefully. Her eyes were wary, as if she expected to be lied to. "Just asked if you guys still lived here. If you were home. Where he could find you." 

A cold sweat had broken out on Ian's back. He suddenly felt very exposed. It wasn't safe to be here. 

"What did he look like? What car was he driving?" Lip rattled off the questions quickly. His brain already going in a million directions. 

"How should I know." Fiona sighed. "He talked to Liam. Do you think Liam got a description of the guy or the car? It's usually a black SUV, but sometimes it's a sedan. Besides, that's not the point. The point is, someone is looking for you guys, and I want to know why." Fiona's voice was hard, but her eyes were soft and imploring. 

She was worried about them. 

"It's fine, Fiona. Just a guy we've got beef with." Lip said, sounding surprisingly genuine. "He just wants a chance to beat my ass. I fucked him up last time, and he's probably still butt-hurt." 

"Why are you fighting at all? What did you guys do?" 

"Lip fucked his girlfriend." the words were out of Ian's mouth before his brain knew what he was saying. It made sense, Lip was notoriously slutty. 

Fiona laughed, shaking her head. "Jesus, Lip." she finished off her glass of wine, standing from the sofa. "Well, I hope she was worth all this trouble. I'm going to bed. Please, figure shit out with this guy. It's creepy as fuck to have some weirdo camped out in front of the house all the time." with that she left them, kissing each of them on the top of their heads before making her way up the stairs. "G'night." she called over her shoulder. 

"Good night." they called back in unison. 

Once they heard Fiona's door closed, the boys locked eyes. 

"We can't stay here." Lip said. He stood from the couch and made his way over to the window, casting his eyes up and down the street. "That fucker in the Escalade has been here. He talked to Liam, for fuck's sake. It's not safe for them, not with us here." 

Ian nodded, grabbing his phone off the coffee table. "Go pack a bag." Ian said, dialing quickly. "I'll be up in a minute. Grab my duffel out of the closet." 

Lip nodded, turning and bounding up the stairs two at a time. 

Ian stood by the window, his eyes on the street, watching closely for anything out of the ordinary. The phone rang twice before the line picked up. 

Ian sighed in relief when he heard his voice. 

"Hey Mick. Can you come get us. Some shit went down." 

Ian's not sure how he's supposed to get used to this shit. Is this going to be his new normal forever? 

Being chased, being forced to leave his family in order to protect them. Being on edge, scared and paranoid? 

It feels too much like a manic episode. Ian hates feeling out of control. How is he supposed to get through this without losing his shit? 

Mickey told him he'd be there as soon as possible, and Ian relaxed the slightest bit. 

If this was going to be his reality from now on, he's at least glad Mickey will be there to see him through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one ended up WAAAY longer than i anticipated. sorry about that. it just felt like this all went together, and i didn't want to split it up. i am working on the next chapter now, but i'm not 100% sure i'll be ready to post by next friday. 
> 
> hope you guys are still digging this. catch you on the flip side.


	6. Hemoerotism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian make a shocking discover. They also get to know each other a little more intimately....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i'm late. i wrote my prison one shot last week, so The Order had to take a back seat for a minute there. i hope this super long chapter makes up for my tardiness. enjoy.

"You ready for this shit?" Ian asks, passing Lip his cigarette as they stare out at the sun peaking out from behind the trees. It's been drizzling for a while, but the clouds have cleared, giving them an amazing view of the sunrise. 

"Nope." Lip laughs, shaking his head. He takes the cigarette from Ian's outstretched hand, pulling a drag off it slowly. He passes the butt back to Ian, bringing his coffee cup to his lips and taking a long sip of the warm liquid. 

It's just before sunrise on the day of the full moon. It feels like they were just here. Ian can't believe it's already time for Lip's next turn. At least this time they know what to expect. Ian will be better prepared. It will be easier this time. 

Yeah, right. 

"You're gonna be okay." Ian replies, running his palm along Lip's tense shoulders. Lip is radiating that same anxious energy that he did last month, but at least now they know what it means. They've learned a lot about Lip's condition in the past few weeks. Ian would hope so, they've been doing nothing but studying. 

Apparently, the first turn is the hardest. Lip won't get sick like he did the first time. No fever, no puking. It will still be just as painful, however. You can't escape the excruciating trauma of shedding your human form. Skin needs to be replaced with fur. Teeth need to be replaced with fangs. Hands and feet must become paws, with claws. All of that has to happen, and it hurts like a motherfucker, every single time. 

Ian wishes he could do something to ease his brother's pain, but he is powerless, once again. 

Lip has also been researching the terrain surrounding the Milkovich manor. He has the surrounding ten miles memorized at this point. Places to avoid, like occupied homes and businesses. Safe spaces like long stretches of desolate forest and a nearby lake. 

Lip is determined to be the best werewolf he can be. He wants to be safe, wants to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone, or god forbid turn anyone. 

Ian is so damn proud of him. He can't believe how well Lip has acclimated to his new reality. He's the strongest, bravest person Ian's ever known, and he loves him so damn much. 

Of course, he doesn't know how to say any of that without sounding like a bitch, or bursting into tears. So he just grips his brother's shoulder and pulls him to his side. Lip falls into the embrace easily, and for a moment, it's like it used to be: just the two of them, sharing a smoke, shooting the shit before anyone else is awake. 

It's always been Ian and Lip against the world, and Ian is so happy they have gotten back to that. Being shut out by his older brother had been agonizing. 

Lip pulls away, squeezing Ian's shoulder as he stands from the porch step. No one else is around at the moment, it's still pretty early. 

Staying at the Milkovich manor has been an adjustment. After Ian and Lip fled their family home a week ago, they'd pretty much gone into hiding. Lip had already been on a leave of absence from his job at the lab. So all he had to do was pack his shit and go. 

Ian, on the other hand, had to improvise a bit. He'd had to take a medical leave from his job at the diner, as well as school. It had been easy, even though he hated how he had to do it. He'd told his boss and his professors that he needed to take a sabbatical, due to his bipolar disorder. It made him feel awful, using his diagnosis like that. Lying. But he didn't see any other choice. It's not like it was that far of a stretch. All this trouble with the Order had set him a little off kilter anyway. It was probably in his best interest to take a step back.

It would really throw a wrench in the works if Ian had a meltdown right now. He shudders at the thought of falling into a swing during all this. He'd have to commit himself. It would be too dangerous for everyone involved, if Ian went manic or depressive right now. 

Lip leads Ian through the front door, and inside they split up. Lip heads up the stairs, Ian makes his way to the kitchen. 

Ian rinses his empty mug, placing it in the sink before making his way over to the island in the center of the room. His prescription bottles are lined up on the black granite, just sitting there in a long line, quietly taunting him. 

It's abnormal for Ian to leave them out in such a public place. Usually, he hides them in his room. His private shame. But when they had first started staying with the Milkovichs, Mickey had put them on the kitchen counter. Ian had protested, but Mickey had only shaken his head, telling Ian he had nothing to be ashamed of, and this way, they were always within arm's reach. 

Ian knows he's probably reading too much into it, but the way Mickey had said it, and the way he put Ian's medication in the literal center of the house, it made Ian feel included, supported. Like Mickey and his family had Ian's back in that fight too. 

Mickey's right, of course, his disorder is not something to be ashamed of. It's just hard to remember that sometimes. It's felt like a private family secret for so long now. So to have someone outside the Gallaghers accept it so openly, it's a lot to take in. 

Ian dispenses a pill from each bottle, tossing them in his mouth and swallowing them down with a water someone left on the counter. He's already dressed for the day, but has nothing to do. Mickey and his siblings have been gone all night. They didn't say where they were going, but Ian is pretty sure he knows anyway. 

Mickey never talks about feeding. He never talks about how he does it, or who he feeds from. Ian has an idea, of course. Lucas pops into his mind, and Ian is consumed by that nasty jealousy again. 

It's ridiculous, honestly. Of course Mickey has had lovers, he's been around a lot longer than Ian has even been alive. And it's not like Ian and Mickey are even dating. Do vampires date? Ian doesn't know. He has learned a lot about the supernatural world in the past two months, but he's still woefully ignorant about the intricacies of Mickey's actual life. What it's like to be Upir, how he goes about things like feeding and fucking. 

Ian wants to ask, obviously, but how does one start a conversation like that? It's really none of his business, even if he wants it to be. Ian's still not sure what he expects from this situation anyway. What good can come from falling for someone you can never really be with? 

He's setting himself up for heartbreak, that's what he's doing. 

Stupid. 

But he doesn't know how to stop it, or if he even wants to. It just FEELS right. Being with Mickey feels right, and Mickey already made it clear that he feels the same. Ian wants so desperately for it to work out between them. And he's not about to let something like logic or mortality get in the way. So Ian shakes off his insecurities and misgivings, making his way to the den. He could have sworn he saw some Upir folklore in the piles of information still spread all over the room.

Maybe he could satisfy his curiosity without having to ask Mickey. It feels kinda shady, like he's going behind Mickey's back or something. But Ian is desperate to know, and scared shitless to ask. 

So he opens the book, flipping through the pages with little direction. He hears the shower turn on above him, and he knows Lip has started his pre-turn ritual. Ian's heart sinks. Twelve more hours and it will be time again. 

Ian pushes those anxieties away too. Locking them in the box in his head where he keeps all his other worries and troubles. Later, he'll deal with that shit later. 

He focuses on the words on the page, even if the text makes little sense to him. 

There has to be something here....

 

***

 

Mickey is focused on the window, watching the rain collecting on the glass before splashing down onto the street below, but his mind is a million miles away. 

It's the morning of the full moon, and that means it's time for Lip's next change. They have prepared him as much as possible, and it's out of their hands now. Mickey is fairly confident that this turn will go smoothly. He's not worried about that. 

What Mickey is worried about is his situation with Ian. Mickey can't believe he let it get this far. He knows it can only end in heartbreak, but he can't seem to stop himself. He knows he has to come clean with Ian, about what is going on between them. He has to tell him about the Pull. 

Mickey's not ashamed to admit, if only to himself, that he is scared. Fucking petrified that Ian will learn the truth, and decide that maybe his feelings for Mickey aren't worth risking his life. 

The sad fact of the matter is, that no matter how many promises Mickey makes, or how good he is at controlling his thirst, accidents still happen. There will always be a chance that Mickey could slip. The Pull only makes it harder to control himself. 

If Mickey ever hurt Ian, or god forbid, killed him, Mickey would never forgive himself. That would be the end for Mickey as well. He can't imagine living in a world where Ian no longer existed.

It should be a strange thought. He's only known Ian a short time. But it's true. It could be the Pull, clouding his thinking, but he's pretty sure it's just Ian. 

Ian is fucking special. He's smart and funny and compassionate. He's brave and kind, and he's the sexiest man Mickey's met in the entirety of his existence. And he seems to genuinely like Mickey, despite the very real dangers associate with Mickey and the life he leads. 

So yeah, Mickey knows he has to tell him. Either Ian will understand and they will get past it, or Ian will walk away, and Mickey will have to deal with that. He can't make Ian want him. 

Ian may think he wants Mickey now. He may think he understands the risks. But once Mickey lays these last few cards on the table, all that could change. The thought of that happening is devastating to Mickey. 

It's not a good feeling. 

"Hey, you okay?" Lucas asks, dropping down on the couch next to Mickey. He hands him a beer, scooting a little closer as he takes a sip of his own beer. 

"Yeah, just thinking." Mickey replies absentmindedly. He takes a sip of his beer, staring out the widow. 

"About him?" Lucas asks, not bothering to hide the hurt in his tone. 

"What makes you say that?" Mickey replies tiredly. He hates these games Lucas plays. Never says what he's really thinking, always using cryptic language, dancing around the topic like a fucking girl. 

"Because you've been here all day and we haven't had sex. You drank from me, twice now, but when I go to grab your dick, you shrug me off. I'm not stupid, Mickey." 

Mickey sighs, dropping his head back against the couch cushions. "Maybe I'm just not in the mood, that ever occur to you?" 

Lucas huffed out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "That's bullshit. You're a walking hard-on, Mickey. Never once have we hung out without getting our dicks out. This is about him, isn't it?" 

Mickey groaned, taking a long pull off his beer. At times like this, he really wishes it were easy for him to get drunk. There's not enough booze in the house for Mickey to even catch a buzz. One shitty aspect of being Upir. No way to dull the edges of this painful conversation. 

"It's a little bit about him, yeah." Mickey replied, finally glancing over at Lucas. His face is pinched in a pained expression, and his eyes are wet.

God damn it. 

"Luke, man. Come on. This shit between us has always been casual. Friends with benefits. Why you gotta get all weird about it now?" 

Lucas sniffs, glancing away. "You going to be with him? Turn him?" 

Mickey scoffed, shaking his head. He should have known. It wasn't about Mickey choosing Ian over Lucas. Lucas was jealous over the idea that Mickey might turn Ian. That's all Lucas ever wanted from Mickey, after all. 

Lucas was stuck on the stupid, unrealistic idea that being Upir was a never ending thrill ride. He thinks it's sexy and exciting. No matter how many times Mickey tries to tell him he's wrong, Lucas just doesn't want to hear it. 

"Of fucking course I'm not going to turn him. You know my policy on that shit." 

"I know what you told me. But how do I know it's true?" Lucas asked, crossing his arms over his chest. "How do I know you just haven't been using me this whole time? Easy sex, easy food, not to mention all the help I give you. Must be nice, having a cop under your thumb. All this time, just biding your time until The One comes along." 

Mickey sighed, trying really fucking hard not to roll his eyes. Lucas has always been a bit of a drama queen. He ignores how spot on Lucas was with his assumptions about Ian possibly being the one, unwilling to admit that shit, even to himself. 

But Mickey doesn't want to fuck up and ruin the whole relationship. Lucas is a good guy, and yes, he's quite useful. Mickey always knew this day would come, when he couldn't weasel his way out of the conversation. 

Looks like today is that day. 

"Luke, I'm not turning anyone. I won't do that. I've told you a million times, and I was telling you the truth. Yeah, there's something about Ian. Something I want to explore. And maybe that has something to do with why I don't feel like fucking you today. But the bottom line in all of this is the fact that it's none of your business, man. I'm sorry, but what goes on between Ian and me has nothing to do with you. Whether or not I fuck him, or feed from him has fuck all to do with what we're doing here." 

Lucas huffed, moving to stand from the couch. Mickey's hand shot out fast, gripping him by the wrist and pulling him back down to sit. "Listen, Luke, I'm not trying to be a dick. You're a good guy, and we have fun together. I appreciate everything you do for me and my family. I really do. I'm sorry if this shit with Ian is hurting your feelings. It's not like I went looking for any of this. But now that it's happening, I've gotta see where it goes. You knew all along what this was between us. I never lied to you or led you on, right?" 

Lucas rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Right." he muttered. 

"So, are we cool? Still friends or whatever? Or were YOU just using me for my dick? Or were you waiting for the day I caved and gave you what you really want from me?" 

Lucas grimaced, shaking his head. "No, no. I'm sorry. I'm not using you either, Mickey. I know what our arrangement entails. I know you won't turn me, and I respect your reasons. I guess this whole thing with the Gallagher brothers just took me by surprise. Ian especially. I've never seen you act this way over a man. I guess I might be a little jealous. Even if this thing between us has always been casual, can you blame me for wanting more?" 

Mickey reached over, laying a hand on Lucas's leg. "Sorry I can't give you what you want." and he meant it. Lucas didn't do anything wrong. Mickey doesn't want to hurt him. He's hoping desperately that Lucas agrees to Mickey's new terms. He doesn't want to have to wipe his memory and walk away forever. 

Lucas nodded, casting his eyes toward the floor. Mickey schooled his expression, attempting to hide how incredibly relieved that Lucas seemed to be on board. 

The alternative was not appealing at all.

"It's okay. I kinda set myself up to get hurt." Lucas shrugged. 

His words resonated with Mickey more than he wanted to admit. Is that what he's doing with Ian? Setting himself up to get hurt? Setting Ian up to get hurt? 

Mickey sighed, standing from the sofa. He patted Lucas on the head like a dog before making his way toward the door. "I gotta get going. Shit to do tonight." he said, pulling his jacket on and patting his pockets for his keys. 

Lucas stood as well, following Mickey to the front door. "Okay, well, call me if you need anything. I still wanna help, y'know. I've still got your back." 

Mickey smiled, relieved. Hopefully Lucas means that. Mickey likes Lucas, and he's invaluable as an asset. "Thanks man. That means a lot." 

Lucas opens the door and Mickey walks through, turning to wave as he makes his way down the hall. 

"Oh! And if you end up bagging that hot ginger, ask him if he's into threesomes?" 

Mickey balked, eyes wide. "Fuck you, man." he laughed, walking backwards toward the stairs. 

"Hey, can't blame a guy for trying." Lucas winked, closing the door on Mickey's gobsmacked expression. 

Mickey chuckled as he made his way down the stairs. Lucas was a prick, but he's glad he's gonna be sticking around.

 

***

 

The moon hangs high in the sky, casting the yard in a cool, ominous light. Lip hops from foot to foot, hands cupping his junk as he shakes through the beginning of his turn. 

Ian, Mickey and Mandy are standing off to the side. Ian looks nervous. Mickey gets it. He's sure it will take more than one turn for all this to feel commonplace. If it can ever really feel commonplace. He glances over at Lip, watching him twitch in pain. 

"You know, now that we know you can handle this, we don't have to watch." Mickey tells Lip as he falls to his knees on the grass. 

"Yeah? That would be good. I don't want an audience for this." Lip grit out, his back arching as his bones start to stretch. Ian grimaces as Lip's vertebrae start to pop, the loud, wet cracking noises filling the air around them. 

"Are you sure?" Ian asks, eyeing his brother warily. "I don't want to leave you to do this on your own." 

Mandy steps up to Ian, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Ian, people have been doing this for centuries. Turning, alone in the forest with no one around to see them through it. We have prepared Lip as much as we can, and he wants to do this on his own. I think we owe it to him to honor his wishes, don't you?" 

Ian sighed, nodding. "Yeah, okay." he didn't want to leave Lip alone to do this, but Mandy was right. He had to do what Lip wanted. This whole situation was fucked up enough, Ian doesn't need to add to it by smothering his brother. 

"Alright." Mickey nodded. He knew that it was killing Ian to step back at this critical moment, but turning was a very private, personal thing. Lip has done the work, the research. He's prepared himself for this, unlike last time. And if he wants to do it on his own, he's going to. He strides over to Lip, the tracking device in his hand. "You want me to do it?" he asks, dangling the collar in Lip's face. 

"You're such a dick." Lip mumbles, but he's smirking. So Mickey smirks back, kneeling down to fasten the collar around Lip's neck and double checking to make sure it's fastened tightly. 

"Okay. You're good." Mickey says, standing up and stepping back. "We left a bag of clothes by the elm tree near the cemetery. You really think you're going to be able to navigate while in wolf-mode?" 

Lip nodded, shaking his limbs out restlessly. "Yeah. I think I can do it. If that's the case, this tracker won't be necessary." Lip pulled at the collar, but his action was cut short when his body was wracked with another tremor. He coughed, then gagged, spitting into the grass. "Okay, get the fuck outta here." he grit out, gagging again. He wretched, heaving heavily. Ian's eyes widened as Lip's spine bulged, the muscles in his back rippling like waves on the ocean. "Fuck!" he yelped, his back arching severely. "Get the fuck out of here." he glared up at Ian, his head flying back as he dug his fingernails into the grass. 

Ian took a step back, wide eyed as he watched his brother puke on the grass. Lip's whole body shook as he emptied his gut onto the dirt. 

"There's blood in that." Ian gasped, pointing to the pile of vomit. 

Mickey grabbed Ian's arm, pulling him back toward the house. Mandy was gone already, having gone back to the house when Lip first requested privacy. "C'mon, Ian. He's gonna be fine. Let's go." 

"There's blood in his puke." Ian repeated, struggling against Mickey as he dragged him toward the house. "Mickey, blood." 

"I can see that, Ian. And it's perfectly normal. The body is rejecting the change. But he'll get through it. C'mon. Let's go inside." 

Ian struggled a bit more, trying to pull out of Mickey's grasp. It was useless, Mickey was much stronger than Ian, and he just dragged him along like he weighed nothing. "Lip..." Ian said, just as Lip's skin started to split. Lip howled, throwing his head back. Ian could see his eyes bulging out of their sockets, and he knew what was coming next. He turned toward the house, letting Mickey lead him inside and away from his brother. 

The whole time he was walking toward the house, Ian felt like an asshole. His brother needed him, and he was just leaving him alone. 

Even if Lip thought he wanted to do this on his own, he shouldn't have to. 

Ian followed Mickey through the back door and into the living room. He sat in his usual seat, crossing his legs as he watched Mickey amble over to the bar and mix them a couple of drinks. 

"Where'd Mandy go?" Ian asked, taking the glass Mickey offered him. Whiskey. Again. Ian took a sip, swallowing against a grimace. Mickey sits next to him, rolling his eyes. 

"She's upstairs with Katie. I'm afraid we're going to be hearing some pretty seriously disturbing lesbian noises coming from up there soon." Mickey cringed, shaking his head. 

Ian laughed, sipping his drink again. Mickey had a way with words that just tickled Ian. He was hilarious, even when he's not trying to be funny. "That sounds awfully homophobic, Mick." 

"Fuck that. It's got nothing to do with them being dykes. It's about not wanting to hear my sister moaning like a porn star. That's fucking nasty." 

Ian laughed, shaking his head. "I hear that. If I had a dollar for every time I had to listen to Lip getting his dick sucked, I wouldn't have to work ever again." 

Mickey laughed, knocking his knee against Ian's. 

Their laughter was interrupted by a blood curdling scream. Ian's head shot up, his eyes going to the window. Lip was howling, his cries shaking the whole house. Ian's heart sank, and he moved to stand. Mickey grabbed his wrist, stopping his forward motion. 

"Hey." Mickey said quietly. Ian looked down at him, conflicted. "He's fine. Let him do this. He needs to know he can do it on his own." 

Ian nodded, still unsure. He understands the desire to be independent. To know you can handle your own shit. But managing your mental illness is clearly different than turning into a supernatural beast, right? 

But it doesn't matter what he wants or thinks. Because this is Lip's choice, and he has to respect that. 

The noises coming from the yard stop abruptly. Lip must have completed his turn, and is now roaming the forest as a wolf again. 

Shit, now what? 

"So what, we just sit around waiting for him to walk back in the door?" Ian asks, taking another sip of his drink. At least last time Iggy was trailing him. What if he needed help? What if something happened, and Lip ended up hurt? They'd have no way of knowing. 

"Actually, I wanted to show you something." Mickey said, moving to stand. Ian stood with him, following him out of the living room and up the stairs. 

The house was huge, Ian knew that already. He's been coming around for weeks now, and has yet to see every room in the house. They pass Iggy's room, the second bathroom, Mickey's room. As they walk past Mandy's room, Ian can hear the tell-tale sounds of sex coming from under the closed door. 

The bed creaking, the mixed low moans of two women. Ian chuckles when he hears the stark sound of a hand coming down on someone's ass, hard. There's a little yelp, followed by a giggle. 

"Fucking quit it!" Mickey hollers, slamming his hand against the closed door on his way by. Ian laughs again, shaking his head. 

"I think it's sweet." Ian says as they finally reach the door at the end of the hall.

"Yeah, cuz that's not your sister diving for sushi in there." Mickey grumbles. He opens the door at the end of the hall, and Ian is surprised to find a staircase on the other side of the door. 

"What the fuck?" 

"It's the attic Ian. Not some portal to another dimension." Mickey chuckles, hitting a antique looking light switch before ascending the stairs two at a time. "C'mon, while we're still young." 

Ian follows Mickey up the narrow staircase. "Aren't you always going to be young?" 

"Fucking smartass." Mickey laughs. 

The attic is huge, which isn't a surprise. It seems to span the entire floor plan of the house. The space is all old wood, framing for the roof of the house, long strings of ancient looking light bulbs span the ceiling, casting the room in an odd yellow glow. It's full of boxes and furniture covered with sheets. Ian sees antique toys, huge oil paintings in ornate wood frames, racks and racks of clothes that look like they belong in the wardrobe department of some historical film. 

It's overwhelming, and Ian's eyes travel from one interesting thing to the next. He moves through the space, picking up things and inspecting them. He makes his way over to the toys, picking up a tin toy robot. He cradles it in his hands, turning it one way and then the other, eyes wide with amazement. 

"This is so cool." Ian whispers, smiling. "Look at all this shit." 

"Ian, you can play with the toys another time. They aren't going anywhere." Mickey laughed, grabbing a big cardboard box and dropping it on the floor before kneeling in front of it and pulling the flaps back. "I think there might be some important shit in here." 

Ian reluctantly abandoned the toys, walking over to Mickey and dropping down beside him. "What are we looking at?" 

"All this time we were going through those files downstairs, I never even thought to check this shit." Mickey mumbled, mostly to himself. He can't believe he forgot these boxes were up here. He doesn't really like to think too much about the boxes they keep in the attic. It's painful to reopen those old wounds. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and his own discomfort will have to take a back seat to the matter at hand. 

He pulls a handful of books from the box, spreading them out in front of him. 

Ian gazes at the books as Mickey arranges them in front of him. They look like leather-bound journals. Old ones. The leather is worn, cracked in some places. The string tied around the covers is tattered and stained. When Mickey opens the first book, Ian leans over his shoulder so he can see what's inside. 

Mickey heart clenches in his chest as he opens the first journal. The date on the inside cover is 1899. There is also a name there. Alana Milkovich. 

"Is that your mother?" Ian asks quietly. 

"Nah." Mickey shook his head, thumbing through the book. "This is Joey's mom's journal. All Terry's wives kept a journal. I don't know why. I guess Alana started the tradition and the rest of them just followed suit. I think Alana had an idea that she would not survive her pregnancy. And she knew that Terry would not turn her. So she kept this journal, as a way to speak to her child from beyond the grave." 

"Oh." Ian replied quietly, gazing at the book in Mickey's hands. Ian doesn't know what to say to any of that. The whole story is so tragic. Monica had always been a shit mother, gone more than she was ever around. And when she was around, it was nothing but chaos and pain for all her children. 

But Ian can't imagine never knowing her. Even if ninety percent of all his memories of Monica are bad ones, there is still that handful of moments that he cherishes. 

Mickey and his siblings don't have that. 

All they have are these journals. 

Ian can feel tears stinging his eyes, but he blinks them back. He glances over at Mickey, taking in his somber expression, the tight set of his jaw. 

"There could be some stuff in here about the Order." Mickey says, dropping Alana's journal and picking up the next one in the pile. Ian leans over, reading the inside cover over Mickey's shoulder. 

Megan Milkovich, 1908

"Colin's mom." Mickey says, flipping through the pages. Ian reads what he can over Mickey's hunched shoulder. He can't see anything about the Order. It's mostly just sad stories about this woman's pregnancy. About how alone she feels, how afraid. How she's not ready to die. How she desperately wants to be able to hold her baby. She writes about Terry, and how he tricked her into bearing this child, with no intention of saving her life. 

Ian shakes his head, a strong feeling of indignation building inside him on this woman's behalf. He can't imagine what that must have been like. Knowing you were going to die. Knowing you were being consumed by your own baby, as it grew inside you. Thinking it was your own fault you were in the predicament to begin with. 

Megan doesn't mention anything about mezmerization, and Mickey has a feeling Terry never told her. She blamed herself entirely for her situation, while Mickey knows she never had a choice, an unwitting pawn in his father's twisted game. He shakes his head, so sad for this woman he never met. 

"Nothing in this one." he huffs, tossing it aside and grabbing up the next one. 

It goes on like that for a long time. Mickey pours over the mothers' journals, searching for anything that will give them the one clue they need to get ahead of the Order. He's starting to get frustrated. Angry that he can't solve this puzzle. All he wants to do is find one thing. One fucking thing that will give them a leg up against this cult that has been hunting his family since the middle ages. 

Mickey reads them all. 

Kira, Iggy's mother, writes page after page of letters to her unborn son. She warns him about his father, and the grim future he has ahead of him. She begs him to not lose his humanity when he becomes Upir. She begs him to remember that he is a man, with a soul, and not just a monster. She tells him again and again how much she loves him, already, while he grows inside her, depleting her life force as she writes. 

Mickey wipes at his eyes furiously. Should he give this book to Iggy? Will it make things better or worse? 

Mickey doesn't know the answer to that question, but he places the book off to the side anyway. 

He'll decide later. 

There are two books left. Mickey just stares at them for a while, biting his lip. He doesn't feel ready. He has been avoiding reading these journals for his entire life. He glances over at Ian, who is staring right back at him, a gentle smile on his face. 

Mickey nods, picking up one of the journals. He's doing this for Ian. To help him. To save him and his brother from the Order. Mickey's own feelings mean little right now. 

He steels himself as he flips the cover open. Ian's still reading over his shoulder, so Mickey is not surprised when Ian gasps....

 

Katrya Ilyana Milkovich, 1938

'Another long day on the road. We drive constantly. It's hard for me, since I'm so big now, but Terry insists it's the only way to keep us all safe. The children don't understand. It's especially hard for Iggy, since he's the youngest. He misses Oregon, and the animals we had on the farm. I don't know what to tell him. What can you say to these boys? That their mothers are dead, and soon I will be too? That we chose to leave them, in order to fulfill their father's wishes? That we had hopes to be with them, to live with them forever, but we were fools? How do you explain that to a child? 

Terry thinks I am still under his spell. I don't know what it is, or how he did it, but for quite some time, I was a willing slave to him. I wanted to be. It felt good. Amazing, even, to belong to Terry. But the further along I get in my pregnancy, the clearer things become. 

I've been a fool. I've willingly given my life away to a man who could never love me. He's using me, like he used all the boys' mothers. I am no more than a walking incubator. Once my son is born, I will die. If not in childbirth, Terry will drain me. I know it, just like I know how wonderful my son will be. 

My son. Mikhailio Aleksandr Milkovich. It's a good name. A strong name. I will never meet my son, but I know him already, as I know myself. And I love him. With every fiber of my being, I love him. 

I have so much hope for him. Like Anya had for her son, and Meg and Kira had for theirs. But my hope runs deeper than maternal fidelity. I know my Mikhalio will be special. He may be destined to be Upir like his father and his brothers, but he will be no monster. He will be compassionate, he will be kind. He will know great love in his life. 

He will never know this life, constantly running, constantly scared. I don't know when, and I don't know how, but one day my son Mikhailio will know peace, away from this chaotic life we lead now. 

I know this, in my very soul. And that thought alone gives me peace. 

We are headed to the west coast. Terry thinks we can finally lose the Order once and for all, if we make it to the Rockies. He promises me the priests have no power on the other side of the mountains. 

I'm not sure if I believe that or not. Seamus Gallagher is not one to be tested or underestimated. He's the fiercest fighter in the entire collective. I've seen him kill our kind time and again. He has made it his personal mission to annihilate our clan. He blames Terry for his brother's death. I don't know if Terry killed Miles Gallagher, but I wouldn't be surprised if he did. My husband derives much pleasure from consuming men of the cloth. Regardless, our whole clan is on Father Gallagher's hit list now, and that is terrifying. He's the most frightening man I've ever met. He believes he has God on his side, and men like that are dangerous indeed. 

But Terry insists we will be safe from Father Gallagher and the Order as long as we keep a low profile and make it to the mountains. 

It won't matter soon anyway. It will be out of my hands when I am dead. Soon I will be just a memory. And who will be there to remember me? Terry? Not likely. Once I am cold and in the ground, he will find a new woman, have another child. And this whole sick cycle will start again. I see now, what has been staring me in the face for ages now: Terry does not want a family, he wants an army. We are all disposable to him, and I am soon to be the next casualty in Terry's war against the Order.

My only regret is that I will never know my son. I will never see what an amazing man he is sure to become. I will never be able to tell him how much I love him, how perfect he is to me already. 

Mikhailio, my son. My only love. I do not want this life for you...

 

Mickey blinks rapidly, his breath hitching. He wipes at his eyes, angry with himself when his fingers come back wet. 

He's not going to cry. Not over a woman he never met. Even if that woman is his mother. 

"Mick." Ian says quietly, reaching up and sliding his hand along his tense shoulder. "Have you never read that book before?" 

Mickey shook his head, running his fingers along the words on the page. His mother's handwriting was elegant and loopy, scrolling along the page delicately. Mickey imagines what his mother looked like. Dark hair like his, bright blue eyes like his. He imagines her sitting in his father's old Ford, rubbing her swollen stomach and singing to him inside her belly. 

He's never thought of his mother like this before. It just hadn't mattered. He hadn't let it matter.

That feels like an oversight now. He tucks the book, along with Mandy's under his arm. He won't read Mandy's mother's journal. She should be the first one to read Ilyia's words. Mickey scrubs a hand down his face, moving to stand. Ian looks up at him, head cocked to the side, a stricken look on his face. 

"Ian?" Mickey asks carefully. Ian's face is ashen, his eyes wide. He looks like he's seen a ghost. "Ian, what's wrong?" 

"Did you not notice that, Mick?" Ian asks, jumping up. He grabs Mickey's book from his hands, ripping it open again. He scans page after page wildly as Mickey looks on, perplexed. 

"What the fuck?" Mickey asks, confused. "What are you looking for?" 

Ian doesn't answer, he just keeps flipping through the pages, his movements becoming increasingly erratic as he becomes more desperate. 

He knows he heard it. He heard Mickey say it. He knows it. There is no way he imagined something so specific. 

Mickey's brow furrowed as he watched Ian tear through his mother's journal. He has no idea what Ian is talking about, or what he's looking for, but Ian clearly thinks it's important. 

Mickey has a moment of panic. What if this is Ian's disorder? Mickey's done some research on the topic, and he knows people can become fixated on seemingly small, unimportant details. 

But when Ian finds what he's looking for and shows it to Mickey, all thoughts of Ian being delusional fly right out the fucking window. 

"Father Seamus Gallagher?" Mickey asks, glancing up at Ian's wide eyes. "Please tell me that's a coincidence." 

Ian shook his head, his eyes travelling from Mickey to the page and back again. "I mean, I'm not sure. But I coulda sworn that we had a Seamus in our family, who was a priest, way back in the day. Frank's mom had a family tree in her belongings when she died, along with all her melee weapons and meth making supplies." 

"Damn." Mickey laughed. "Your gram sounds like a fun lady." 

Ian chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't know about all that. But Peg for sure had an old Gallagher family tree, and I am almost positive there was a Father Seamus on it. From the twenties." Ian ran a hand through his hair, trying to wrap his head around this new development. 

"Are you tellin' me you think your great grampa was a priest in the Order, and hunted my family?" 

"It seems like it could be possible, right?" Ian shrugged. He didn't know what else to say. He was trying to temper his anxiety. There is no use getting worked up over some insanely flimsy theory. "We'll have to ask Lip in the morning. He'll know more about it than I do." Ian wished Lip was with him now. Lip was always the thinker between them. He always kept a level head, never let his emotions overtake him. Ian has always been a slave to his emotions. And right now, he's overwhelmed and a little scared and he just wants his brother. 

But Lip is out howling at the moon right now, so Ian will just have to deal. 

Mickey nodded. "Okay. We'll do that. Although I have to say, I think it's a pretty serious long shot. What are the odds, Ian?" 

Ian shrugged. "I mean, this whole situation is pretty far out of the realm of reality. Long shots and far fetched shit is all we've got to work with anymore." 

Mickey laughed, nodding. "Yeah, okay. C'mon. Let's get the fuck outta here. I've had enough of the Order's bullshit for one night. I got something else I wanna show you." Mickey grabbed Iggy's mother's journal off the floor, tucking it under his arm, along with Mandy's and his own before he turned to head back down the stairs. 

Ian followed close behind Mickey as he made his way down the steps and back into the hallway. Ian chuckled as they passed Mandy's room. The girls were still going at it an hour later. 

Mickey shakes his head, grimacing. "Jesus christ." 

"Lesbians have incredible stamina." Ian offers as they make their way down the main staircase. 

"Upirs have incredible stamina. I doubt it has much to do with Mandy's taste for seafood." 

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" Ian asks, smiling. He followed Mickey into the kitchen, sliding into a stool at the island as he watched Mickey mill about the kitchen. He dropped the journals to the counter before taking a bowl out of one of the high cabinets, placing it on the island in front of Ian before wandering over to the fridge and pulling out some random items. Some left over chicken from Ian and Lip's lunch. Some stewed tomatoes, some cold pasta. He tosses all the food into the bowl, mixing it with a fork before popping it in the microwave. 

"Pretty simple, actually." Mickey shrugged, shredding some cheese. "Upirs are pretty much supernatural machines. We do everything people do, but better. More intense. We're stronger, faster, and clearly have endless energy to burn." he pointed toward the ceiling, where noises from upstairs were still filtered through the plaster. "I suppose it has something to do with us being predators. Top of the food chain, or whatever." 

Ian hummed in agreement, watching Mickey carefully. He knows Mickey is talking about hunting and eating, but all Ian can imagine how incredible Mickey must be in bed. Ian has a very strong sex drive. It's hard for him to find partners that can keep up with him. He's often left unsatisfied, feeling like some sex-crazed man whore. 

Ian lets his mind wander as he watches Mickey work. He watches the muscles in his arms flex as he removes the food from the microwave before tossing the pasta onto a plate for Ian. He lets his eyes wander down his back to his ass as Mickey grabs some silverware from a low drawer. God, that ass. Ian wonders if Mickey's sexy body is part of his superior Upir make up, or if he's just a hot motherfucker.

Ian's leaning toward 'hot motherfucker'.

A thought occurs to Ian as he watches Mickey putting all the ingredients back in the fridge. He glances up at Mickey, curious. "Why do you have all this food in your house if you don't eat?" 

"Told you already." Mickey replies, popping the cap off a beer and sliding it across the counter top to Ian. "We can eat, just doesn't serve much of a purpose. Makes me queasy, honestly. But we keep food in the house for guests. Like you, and Kate." 

Mickey sprinkles the grated cheese along the top of the pasta, placing the plate in front of Ian with a grin. "Besides, I used to cook. Before my turn, I was a bit of a foodie. Not that that word existed back then..." 

Ian smiled, nodding. He took a sip of his beer before picking up his fork and digging in. He didn't realize how hungry he was until the scent of the chicken permeated his nostrils. Ian dug in, shoveling food into his mouth. Fucking delectable. He hissed as he burned his tongue, eliciting a chuckle from Mickey. 

"Careful there, killer."

Ian rolled his eyes, smiling. 

"This is so good." Ian moaned around a mouthful of pasta. "How is it that someone that hasn't eaten in decades can still make food so delicious?" 

Mickey laughed, taking a sip of his own beer. "I'm multi-talented." 

"I don't doubt that." Ian smiled, his mind dropping right back into the gutter. 

Shit. 

"Hurry up, eat that shit. This is not what I wanted to show you." Mickey said, sliding into the seat next to Ian. He watched him eat, trying his best to keep his damn cool. 

The Pull was pulsating through Mickey's body. Hot, throbbing electricity pooling in his chest, slithering down his extremities. 

It wasn't even a sexual longing. Sure, that was there. That desire, that carnal craving. But this was more than that. Mickey doesn't like the idea that it's purely the Pull, either. He doesn't want Ian only physically. He doesn't want Ian because of some supernatural connection between them. 

He wants Ian. Only Ian. And only because he's Ian. 

That's why what he's going to do next is so important. He can't move forward with Ian until he knows the whole truth. 

Mickey needs to know that Ian feels the same. That he understands the reality of their situation, all the different facets of what is happening between them. 

He can only hope that once this is all out in the open, Ian's feelings haven't changed. 

Mickey's not sure what he would do if Ian walked away now. 

Ian finishes his dinner, walking his plate over to the sink and rinsing it before draining his beer and placing the empty on the counter. He turns toward Mickey, smirking. "Okay. Now what?" 

Mickey smirks back, cocking his head toward the back door. "Follow me." 

There is a set of french doors off the kitchen. They lead to the back deck, and beyond that, the gardens. 

Ian's never seen anything so beautiful at a private home. He's been to rich people's houses before. Mostly sugar daddies from his dancing days. But he's never seen something this opulent. Not even close.

The back garden stretches for what feels like miles. Ian gapes at the surrounding landscape, shocked to find such a paradise in Mickey's back yard. Large manicured bushes, thick, ancient looks trees with twisted roots and lush green leaves. Ian sees row upon row of flowers. Delicate blooms standing proud in the moonlight. 

"I didn't know flowers bloomed at night." Ian said, laying gentle fingers on the spindly iridescent petals of some exotic looking flower. "What are these?" he asked in wonderment. 

Mickey chuckled, sliding up next to Ian and laying his hand on the flower next to Ian's. "That's a Casa Blanca lily. Mandy loves them. This garden is full of night blooming flowers. Some of them only bloom for one night, every two years." Mickey glanced from the flower to Ian's enamored face. Mickey grinned. The garden was quite beautiful, but it's just another part of the house to Mickey, after living there for so many years. Seeing it through Ian's eyes was like seeing it for the first time. 

"Beautiful." Ian whispered, trailing his index finger along the stem of the lily. 

"Very beautiful." Mickey agreed, but his eyes were fixed on Ian. When Ian is near, Mickey can't see anything else. "C'mon, sit with me. We need to talk." Mickey said, pulling Ian by the arm toward a bench under a large willow. The heavy branches of the tree bowed toward the ground, forming a shelter of sorts around the bench. The long, wispy leaves of the willow skimmed the ground, dragging back and forth in the grass with the breeze. 

The moon was high in the sky, casting it's luminous glow through the tree branches, illuminating Mickey's face as he gazed at Ian. "Sit." he said, pointing to the bench. 

Ian sat without question, willing to do almost anything Mickey asked in the moment. "What's up? You're acting a weirder than normal." 

Mickey chuckled, taking a seat next to Ian and turning to face him. The bench was small, so their knees brushed, sending a new wave of lighting up Mickey's leg and into his chest. He took a deep, albeit unnecessary breath, willing the surge of energy down. 

He had to get this shit out, and it would be damn near impossible if his whole body was vibrating with pulsing need. 

It almost feels like a tangible thing, hanging in the air between them. Mickey stares at Ian, wishing he could read his thoughts. 

Ian watches Mickey watching him, tingles of desire bubbling in his stomach. That has never happened to him before. 

Sure he's been attracted to men. Lots of men. Had sex with most of them. He understands desire. Raw sexual want. 

But this is not only that. His dick's not even hard right now. It's like his whole being is drawn to Mickey. Body and soul. He's never experienced anything like it. 

Mickey twitches in his seat, shaking out his arms and legs. He's desperate to get the Pull under control before he starts talking, but the feeling only grows stronger by the second. 

God damn it. 

Ian watched Mickey carefully, a little concerned. Mickey was acting odd, odder than usual, which is saying a lot.

Ian is hit by the frightening notion that Mickey wants to end this. Whatever this is. Maybe Mickey finally decided that Ian is more trouble than he's worth, and wants him to go home. Maybe Ian's gotten ahead of himself, and Mickey wants to slow down, take a step back. 

"You're kind of scaring me." Ian mutters quietly, looking up at Mickey through his lashes before fixing his gaze onto his hands, which are twisted in his lap. 

"You've got nothing to worry about." Mickey said, grabbing Ian's hand and clasping it between his own. Energy shot up Mickey's arm, like Ian was electrifying him. He sucked in a sharp breath, willing himself to calm the fuck down. Okay, he can do this. "I just need to tell you this stuff. It can be a lot to take in, and you're already dealing with so much. I didn't want to add to it. But if we are going to keep hanging out, I need you to know these things before we go any further. So you can decide if you want to proceed, or cut your losses and wash your hands of me and this entire situation." 

Ian's brow furrowed, confusion flooding his mind. "Why would I do that?" he asked. "What are you talking about?" 

Mickey sighed, steeling himself. Okay, now or never. "Do you remember what I told you about being Upir?" 

Ian nodded slowly, cocking his head to the side. "Yeah, I remember." he said. How could he forget? "But I told you, that stuff doesn't scare me. I'm not afraid of you." and he meant it. Ian knows, logically, that he should probably be scared of Mickey. Ian has a feeling that if it were any other vampire trying to sit next to him, he'd be petrified. But when he's with Mickey, he feels nothing but peace. He feels safe with Mickey, which is pretty much the opposite what he should be feeling. 

"Well, there is one part of Upirism I haven't told you about. It's more of a legend than a hard fact, and I've never seen it in real life. I'm still not sure this is what's even happening, but I've read all the texts, and it seems to be the only answer." Mickey fidgeted in his seat, digging in his pocket for his cigarettes. He pulled one out, sticking it between his lips and lighting it. He casts his eyes across the garden, his eyes taking in the fragrant blooms as he organizes his thoughts. 

"It's called the Pull." he finally says, keeping his eyes locked on the garden. He can see Ian staring at him in his peripheral vision, but he won't look over. "It is a metaphysical connection that draws an Upir to it's fated mate." 

"Upirs have mates? Like penguins?" 

Mickey looks over at Ian, eyebrows raised. "What the fuck do penguins have to do with anything?" 

"Penguins mate for life." Ian said, shrugging. "Is that what you are talking about?" 

Mickey chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, I guess I kind of am. Upirs can have mates. Most of the time it's a choice. Like humans. You meet someone, you like each other, you fuck, you decide to keep them around, until you don't. But that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about a Fated Mate, as in meant to be, destined to be together by something greater." 

"Like God?" Ian asked, confused. 

"Fuck if I know." Mickey replied, running his fingers through his hair. Why is this so hard? 

Ian put his hand out for Mickey's cigarette, and Mickey passed it over. He watched Ian smoke, the Pull amping up again in his chest. Ian took a long drag, tilting his head back as he blew the smoke up into the night sky. 

Mickey's skin was on fire, his fingers itching to reach out and touch Ian. He wanted it so bad. Needed it. He curled his fingers around his knees, pulling on all his restraint to keep in check. 

"I don't know how or why it happens, or what the cause is. The lore only speaks of an Upir's fated mate, how you can tell if you are drawn together by the Pull, and what the various outcomes of pursuing said mate could be." 

"What does it feel like?" Ian asked, his heart pounding in his chest. Is Mickey implying what Ian thinks he's implying? Could it be? 

"What does it feel like?" Mickey repeated, smiling up at Ian. He grabbed Ian's cigarette, tossing it in a coffee can at their feet before gripping Ian's hand in both of his. "Well, it feels like a magnet, kind of. It starts out small. A swell of energy in my chest, behind my heart. It gets bigger and bigger until my whole body is trembling with this all consuming need." 

"Need for what?" Ian whispered, eyes wide. 

Mickey smiled, cocking his head to the side. "You." he said simply. He smiled wider at Ian's gobsmacked expression. "It started that night at Starved Rock Park. I was just wandering through the forest, minding my own business, when my whole body was overtaken by this warmth. This hot, tingly rush. I've never felt anything like it. And all of the sudden I was running. I didn't know where I was going or why, I just followed the pull in my chest until I found you. That's also how I found you on the night of Lip's first turn. I had been following you for a while by then. I'm sorry, I know that's a violation of your privacy. I just didn't know what else to do." 

Ian's jaw is slack, mouth moving as if to speak, but no words come out. Mickey watches him carefully, trying to decipher his thoughts. 

When it became clear that Ian was not going to speak, Mickey continued. 

Too late to turn back now. 

"And ever since that first night, the feeling has not dissipated. It's only grown stronger. When we are together, like this, it's all consuming. It makes it hard to think. My brain and body are overtaken by the need to get closer. Always closer. It feels like I'll never be satisfied, even if I were sitting in your lap." he shook his head, fully aware of how crazy he sounded. "It's better when you're close by, though. When you are gone, it feels like I can't breath, which is ironic, since I don't need to breath." he huffed, chancing a glance at Ian. 

Ian was frozen, eyes wide, mouth still slack. His eyebrows were twitching on his forehead, but that was the only movement Ian seemed capable of. Mickey sighed. 

"I know I should have told you when we first talked about the situation between us. I just didn't know what to say, and I wanted to do some research before I brought this to you. I've found some information, but I'm not sure if it will help me or hurt me."

"Tell me." Ian said simply. He's a little pissed that Mickey kept something like this from him. It seems like a pretty big fucking deal. Some kind of outside force, drawing Mickey to Ian. It seems like something you'd mention in the 'getting to know you' phase. "Tell me right now." 

Mickey nodded sadly. Ian's mad. That makes sense. Mickey has been lying by omission for the duration of their friendship. "Okay, well, from what I've read, the Pull can happen to any Upir at any time. You can be drawn to another Upir, or a human, like yourself. They say you are soul-bonded. Two halves of the same whole. Mates. If you mate with someone you are drawn to by the Pull, it will be transcendental. Unlike anything else. Bliss. Ecstasy. Perfection. It is said that fated mates mate for life, that nothing can destroy their bond. That is one facet of the Pull." Mickey exhaled slowly. There, he said it. 

"What is the other facet? Of the Pull, I mean. How else can it work?" Ian knows instinctively Mickey is leaving something out. He can see it all over his face. 

He's holding something back. 

"Shit, okay." Mickey sighs, running both hands through his hair before gripping the back of his neck hard. "The other option is related to feeding." 

"What the fuck?" Ian whispered, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. What the hell is Mickey talking about?

"Well, for the Pull to be mate related, it has to be felt by both parties. Like, I feel it for you, and in turn, you feel a pull toward me. If you don't feel that, we are not fated." 

"Then what's the purpose of the Pull?" Ian asked, confused. 

"Well, the legends say the Pull can lead you to two things: either your fated mate, or your most powerful host. The Pull is the desire to become one. One being, one soul. If you can not do that through mating and claiming, you can do it through consumption." 

"What? Like eating me?" Ian choked out. His face was hot and his hands were sweating. A cold chill ran down his spine as he moved to stand. He felt wobbly, like he'd been drinking. He stumbled over his feet as he struggled to stay upright. "You want to eat me?" 

"No." Mickey shook his head. "You have to listen to me, Ian. That can be one way the Pull works. But I don't want that. If that is all this is between us, we never have to act on it. I would never feed from you if you didn't want it. I would never want to satiate this craving through deception or coercion. I'm telling you all this now because I need to know, do you feel it? Any of it? Do you feel the Pull as I do?" 

Ian dropped back down on the bench, cradling his head in his hands as he considered Mickey's question. 

Did he feel it? 

"Explain it to me again." Ian mumbled, turning toward Mickey. Mickey's face was open and honest, laced with apprehensive fear. Ian's heart clenched in his chest. 

"Well, when I'm near you, it's like I'm high. Happy, all the time. Energy bubbling just under my skin, setting all my nerve endings on fire. I want to be near you always. Want to protect you, keep you safe. When you are gone, or I don't know what you are doing, it's like I can't sit still. Anxious and fidgety." 

"Is it ever like, a low grade buzzing? Warm and comforting but giddy and electrifying at the same time?" Ian asked, thinking back on all the strange sensations he's felt in Mickey's presence. 

"Yeah, Ian. It is. That's exactly what it's like." Mickey nodded, his face splitting into a wide smile. 

"So, if I feel it too, does that mean it's not my blood you want? Does that mean this pulling is mate related? Are you telling me we're soulmates or something?" 

"Mickey shrugged. "I'm not sure. Like I said before, I've never seen this shit in real life. It's all old stories and folklore. But yeah, if you feel it like I do, that means there is something very rare between us." 

Ian nodded, unsure of what else to say. He liked Mickey, a lot. None of this new information changes how he feels. He's surprised to find he's not at all scared by what Mickey has just told him. In fact, he's intrigued. He finds he's actually desperate to explore it more. He's also relieved that there may actually be an explanation for the strange feelings he's been experiencing lately. The idea that all of this bizarre shit could tie him to Mickey forever is overwhelming. But it's not a bad feeling. Not at all. "So, what does that mean? What do we do with all this?" 

Mickey shrugged, inching closer to Ian on the bench. "I've been doing my best to resist it." he says quietly, running his fingers along Ian's wrist. "It can only end one of two ways, either I kill you or I turn you, and I refuse do either of those things. I won't." 

"I don't believe that." Ian shook his head, smiling sadly. He closed the last bit of distance between them, cupping the side of Mickey's face gently. "I can't think like that." Ian stares into Mickey's blue eyes, feeling that odd tingling Mickey was just speaking about. "I refuse to believe this thing between us can only end in tragedy. There has to be a way." 

"I can't control myself around you, Ian." Mickey said, unconsciously leaning into his touch. "I am always so careful. Always in control. On guard. But you bring something out of me. Something I've never felt before."

"What does it feel like?" Ian whispered, his eyes darting all over Mickey's face. The moon was high in the sky, beaming down on them, reflecting it's soft light onto Mickey's pale skin. Ian smiled. God, he was so beautiful. 

"It makes me feel alive." Mickey replied lowly, his own hands reaching up to curl into the short hair at the back of Ian's head. "More alive than I ever felt when my heart was beating." 

Ian grinned, wrapping his arms around Mickey and pulling him to his chest. Their bodies pressed tight together, the energy between them boiling over until it hung around them like a cloud. Mickey's whole body thrummed with it. He felt the nonsensical desire to burrow himself inside Ian, to stay within him forever. "I feel the same way. I haven't felt this alive, this fucking real since before my diagnosis. You do that for me, Mick. Don't pull away from me, please. I'm not scared, not of you. I trust you. I know you'd never hurt me." 

"No, I wouldn't." Mickey promised. He doesn't know how he knows it, but he's certain down to his very bones that he would die before he let any harm come to Ian. 

Ian smiled again, resting his forehead against Mickey's. Ian was filled with a myriad of emotions at the moment. Relief, coupled with confusion, with a splash of intrigue. It was so much to consider, but gazing into Mickey's bright blue eyes, his mind was elsewhere. He opened his mouth and spoke before he could talk himself out of it. "So, now that that's settled, why don't you let me take you to bed?" Ian ventured, smirking. 

"You tryin' to get in my pants, Gallagher? After all the shit I just told you?" Mickey balked, laughing.

"Well, you can't go telling me we're fated fucking soulmates and not expect me to get hard. If the universe thinks we belong together, who are we to argue? Besides, I've had a constant boner since you the night you slept in my bed. Three weeks is a long time to have blue balls." 

Mickey laughed, shoving Ian with an open palm. "Fuck you." he said, standing. Ian stood also and they started making their way through the garden and back toward the house.

" Three weeks worth'a blue balls, huh? I guess I sort of owe you then." Mickey said over his shoulder. He was mildly surprised when Ian's hand shot out, intertwining their fingers as they crossed the threshold into the house. The simple contact sent a thrill up Mickey's arm, and by the harsh gasp that slipped past Ian's lips, Mickey was certain he'd felt it too. 

"You really do." Ian agreed eagerly. 

They made it to the staircase, Mickey leading Ian up to his bedroom. The Pull was throbbing in his chest, like a second heartbeat. Heat and want and desire, bubbling and flowing through him like a drug. 

Intoxicating. 

Mickey smiled to himself as Ian slid his free hand down his side, dragging his fingers along the curve of his ass. 

Mickey's glad he told Ian about the Pull. A huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders, and Ian seems to be cool with all of it. Maybe even feels the same. The thought that Ian could actually be his fated mate brings Mickey immense happiness. The thought that this could all be real. The thought that Ian still wants Mickey, still want to try. 

Now, if Mickey could just explain his desire to feed during sex, then he'd really be golden. 

 

***

 

The door slammed behind them as Ian's back connected with the wood, hard. Ian grunted, his hands flying out to grip Mickey's hips as he plastered himself to Ian's body. Mickey hissed. He didn't mean to, but it was growing increasingly difficult to suppress his animalistic urges. 

Ian didn't seem to mind though, if the low moan that slipped past his lips was any indication. He tipped his head back, eyes closed as Mickey nosed at his neck. 

Mickey groaned, inhaling deeply. There it is, that Ian scent. Warm spices and sun-kissed skin. Mickey grinned against Ian's throat, darting his tongue out to taste him. Ian whimpered, incredibly turned on already. His cock was throbbing, straining against his jeans as Mickey laved at his neck. 

A sharp gasp ripped past Ian's lips as he felt Mickey's sharp teeth nipping at his collar bone. Mickey drew back, smirking. "Don't worry, I won't bite." 

Ian chuckled, gripping Mickey by the back of his neck and dragging their mouths together. Mickey grinned wolfishly against Ian's lips as he plunged his tongue into his mouth, slipping a hand under the fabric of his t-shirt. 

The kiss deepened, and Mickey was overtaken by the Pull once more. The feeling built in his core, pulsing up and out, spider-webbing through his entire body. Feeling Ian this close was intoxicating. Everything about him was perfect. His scent was delectable, his skin smooth and hot under Mickey's fingers. The sound of his heart thudding in his chest, music to Mickey's ears. Mickey pulled back, gripping the hem of Ian's shirt and pulling. Ian grinned at him, lifting his hands to help Mickey slip the garment off his body. Once Ian's shirt was gone, Mickey quickly shed his own, tossing it behind him haphazardly. He grabbed Ian by the waist of his jeans, walking backwards as he dragged Ian toward the bed. 

Once they were at the foot of the bed, Mickey twisted them around and shoved Ian with an open palm. Ian went flying backwards, shocked once again by Mickey strength. He landed on the mattress with a startled laugh, watching Mickey with wide, lust blown eyes. 

"Lose those." Mickey said, motioning toward Ian's pants as he began to shed his own. Ian scrambled to comply, his movements erratic and sloppy. He wriggled around on his back as his fingers fumbled with his fly. His eyes were glued to Mickey as he stood at the end of the bed, unzipping his own pants. Mickey's eyes were dark and focused, observing Ian's every move. Ian felt his body flush hot under the intense gaze. He finally succeeded in shedding his pants, laying back against the pillows, panting. 

Mickey stood at the end of the bed, head cocked to the side as he looked down on Ian. He's seen his body before, but never like this. He's laid out on the blankets, his toned chest heaving in anticipation. Mickey walks over to the side of the bed, getting as close as he can without climbing in. He reached out carefully, trailing his fingertips along Ian's calf. Ian twitched, sucking in a sharp breath. His body reacted immediately to the touch, goosebumps spread along his chest as his cock throbbed. He's so incredibly turned on already. 

It's overwhelming. 

It is more than arousal, Ian can feel it. His whole body is alight with this electrifying energy, undulating just under his skin. Ian can barely contain himself, feeling like he about to explode. 

Mickey's hand continued it's exploration, curling around Ian's hip bone before dancing up along his rib cage. Ian threw his head back reaching for Mickey, but the other man kept himself just out of reach. Ian huffed, and Mickey chuckled. 

"You're beautiful." Mickey stated matter-of-factly. Usually Ian would roll his eyes at a statement like that, but Mickey's tone left no room for argument. He gently caressed Ian's chest, ghosting his fingertips along Ian's erect nipples. 

Ian whimpered, squirming. "Mick, come here." 

Mickey chuckled again, shaking his head as he kept doing just what he was doing. He made his way to the head of the bed, his fingers dragging along Ian's neck. He could feel Ian's pulse thudding under his fingers, but he felt it stronger in his own chest. 

Ian was radiating vitality. So vibrant and alive, it made Mickey's head swim. He trailed a single finger along Ian's jaw before suddenly gripping Ian by the back of his head and fisting his hair. 

Ian groaned, his eyes slipping shut. God that felt good. "Mickey." he whispered. 

Ian didn't know this, but Mickey was desperately trying to keep himself in check. This has never happened to him before. He is always in perfect control of himself. But if he gets on that bed right now, he has no way of knowing what he might do. So he drags it out, caressing every inch of Ian he can get his hands on, all the while battling himself internally for control. 

After long minutes of soft, gentle passes of his fingers, Mickey finally feels like he has some semblance of control. He crawls into the bed with Ian, hovering over him. Ian is gazing up at him with so much wonder, Mickey wants to blush. Mickey splits a cock smirk, leaning down to capture Ian's lips. 

Ian sighs into his mouth, wasting no time pushing his tongue past Mickey's lips. The kiss is heated instantly, both men biting and sucking at each other's lips. It's erotic and consuming and Ian needs to remind himself to breath. Mickey drops down on top of Ian, groaning lowly when their bodies collide. He can feel Ian, hard and ready, pressed to his stomach. He rolls his hips slowly, delighted by the low moan that bubbles past Ian's lips. 

Ian's hand slide up Mickey's thighs, his fingers digging into the flesh as he pulls Mickey down onto him with more force. Mickey grinds down on him again, emitting a choked noise when Ian's fingers slip under the legs of his boxers to cup his ass. 

Mickey loses all sense of time there with Ian. Nothing else exists except for Ian's tongue in his mouth and Ian's hands gripping his ass. The pull throbs between them, surrounding them, permeating them until it's almost as prominent as their own arousal. 

Mickey's dick is hard and leaking. He wants to pull back and finish stripping, but that would require space between he and Ian, and that feels like a terrible idea. 

"Mick, Mick." Ian sighs. "Please, fuck. I need, I need..." Ian trails off, so consumed by his want that he can no longer articulate thoughts. He rocks up mindlessly, chasing friction. Mickey feels so good on top of him. His hands, his mouth. It's fucking perfect. 

But Ian wants more. 

"Shhh, I gotcha." Mickey replies, reluctantly sitting up. He stands on his knees, pulling his boxers down and off, tossing them on the floor with the rest of his clothes before going back to hovering over him. Ian props himself up on his elbows, gazing down at Mickey as he dips his head, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along Ian's chest. 

Ian holds his breath as his eye greedily soak in the image before him. Mickey is leaning over his body, his tongue lapping at Ian's heated flesh. His back is arched, his pale, plump ass high in the air, swaying slightly. His body is taught, rippled with tight, well defined muscles. Ian casts his eyes down Mickey's flushed body, his eyes lingering on his thick thighs. Mickey's cock is hard, red at the tip, hanging heavy, away from his body as he leans over Ian's body. Ian can see a bead of precome glistening at the tip, and his mouth waters. 

Mickey is huffing out heavy, unnecessary breaths against Ian's skin as his mouth travels lower and lower. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of Ian's boxers, dragging them down his thighs and throwing the off the edge of the bed. Ian's cock is gorgeous, just like the rest of him. Thick and long, and Mickey can't wait to get his mouth on it. He sucks a mark into the flesh right under Ian's belly button, grinning against the skin as Ian throws his head back, moaning. Mickey nips at the cut of Ian's hip, inhaling deeply as he buries his face in the juncture of hip and thigh. He laves his way across Ian's stomach once more before dipping his head down and barely flicking his tongue along the head of Ian's cock. 

Ian's reaction is immediate and vehement. His body bows off the bed, his hands flying up to grip Mickey's shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto. Mickey huffs out a breathless laugh, finally taking Ian in hand and guiding his straining erection toward his open mouth. 

Their eyes stay locked as Mickey closes his mouth around the head of Ian's dick. Ian's not even blinking. He's just staring, slack jawed, as Mickey sinks his mouth down lower and lower. He arches his eyebrows at Ian as his lips close around the base of his cock, his nose nestled in the tuft of red hair. 

Mickey's eyes are dancing as his tongue undulates on the underside of Ian's dick. He can feel Ian's pulse pounding, but he pushes his thirst to the back of his mind so he can focus on taking Ian apart, bit by bit. He maintains eye contact as he starts to bob his head. Slow, purposeful slides of his lips and tongue along Ian's long shaft. He takes him deep into his throat, relaxing his muscles as Ian throbs in his mouth. 

Ian is a mess already. He's never gotten this wrecked by a blow job alone. Mickey's only been sucking him off for less than two minutes, but Ian's already precariously close to coming. 

Mickey pulls off slowly, dragging his tongue along the shaft, base to tip, before swirling painfully slowly around the head. Ian is leaking, and Mickey laps it up hungrily. Ian tastes delicious. 

Mickey knew he would. 

Ian falls back against the pillows, unable to support his own weight any longer. He moans when Mickey takes him deep again. The languid pace from before is gone, Mickey is sucking him off vigorously. He scrapes his teeth along the shaft, splaying a hand out along Ian's heaving chest. He can feel Ian's pulse increasing, and that only urges him on more. He feels like he could suck Ian off all night and never get bored. 

Ian, however, has other ideas. 

"Mick, you gotta stop." Ian whines, fisting a hand in Mickey's hair and pulling hard. He jerks Mickey's head back and off his cock. Mickey grunts at the sting, grinning up at him, his eyes wild, his face covered in spit and precome. 

"Whatsa matter?" he asks innocently, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. 

"You know damn well." Ian laughed, sitting up and hooking his arms around Mickey's body, swinging them sideways on the bed. Mickey lands underneath him with a chuckle, reaching for Ian instantly. He gripped Ian by the back of his head, pulling him into another heated kiss. 

Ian's wet cock slid along Mickey erection, creating delicious friction. Mickey moaned into Ian's mouth, thrusting up. "God, you feel so good." he whispered, staring up at Ian in wonder. 

He still can't believe Ian is here with him. That Ian wants him like he wants Ian. The thought warms him to his core, and he swears the Pull pulses heavier as the thought swims through Mickey's mind. 

His thoughts are cut short when Ian pulls back, smirking as he starts backing down the bed. Mickey watches him with wide eyes as Ian shuffles down the mattress before flopping down on his stomach between Mickey's spread legs. Ian lays his hands on Mickey's inner thighs, gripping the muscles tightly before pressing them apart as far as they'll go. Ian leans in, burying his nose in the dark hair of Mickey's groin. Ian inhales deeply, utterly drunk on Mickey's scent. That's never happened to Ian before, but he's too gone to wonder about it now. So he just pulls another deep breath, reveling in Mickey's exotic scent. Ian's never smelled anything like it. Like a forest at midnight, or charred land after a wildfire. Ian presses his face against Mickey's crotch, enveloping himself in the man. 

Mickey squirms, laughing. "Um, are you just gonna blow your load sniffin' on me, or are you gonna fuck me at some point?" 

Ian lifts his head, blushing. He kinda lost it for a minute there. "Oh, I'm gonna fuck you, but I wanna do something else first." Ian splays his hands under Mickey's glorious ass cheeks, lifting him off the bed and settling Mickey's legs over his shoulders. Mickey stares down at him, licking his lips wantonly. 

Oh shit. Is Ian gonna...? 

Mickey's mind goes blank at the first touch of Ian's tongue against him. His eyes roll back in his head and he makes a nonsensical, girly noise. He'd be embarrassed if Ian wasn't fucking destroying him with his mouth. 

Ian laid hot, open-mouthed kisses to Mickey's ass, running his tongue along his rim in slow, purposeful circles. Mickey writhed beneath him, his whole body on fire. He squirmed on the bed, reaching up to fist Ian's hair with his shaking fingers, keeping him close. 

Ian was breathing hard against his hole, licking and sucking voraciously. His fingers dug into the meat of Mickey's ass, the pain only turning Mickey on more. Ian pointed his tongue, delving deep, moaning against Mickey's ass when Mickey cried out in pleasure. Ian rolled his hips against the mattress, but the soft bedding did little to ease his ache. 

Ian reluctantly sat up, wiping his mouth before crawling back over Mickey. Mickey was staring up at him, his eyes dark, his mouth hanging open. Ian smirked down at him, dipping his head for another kiss. 

Mickey kissed him passionately, wrapping his arms and legs around his body tightly. Ian melted into the touch, unable to get close enough. 

Ian was caught off guard when Mickey flipped them. Using his legs, he twisted them on the bed until Ian was laid out underneath him, breathing heavy. "I can't get over how strong you are." Ian marveled. "Fucking sexy." 

"Just you wait." Mickey laughed, reaching behind himself to grab Ian's hard cock. Ian hissed at the contact, his back bowing off the bed. 

"Wait, Mick." Ian sighed, gripping Mickey's hips with both hands."Do you need more prep? I don't want to hurt you." 

Mickey smiled, shaking his head. Ian was such a sweetheart. "Nah, never did. I guess it could be part of what I am." Mickey replied, placing Ian's dick at his wet hole. "Not like there's a shit ton of lore on gay Upirs." he chuckled as he sank down in one slow, fluid motion, watching Ian's face with rapt attention. "I like foreplay just as much as the next guy, but it's not necessary." Mickey was now fully seated on Ian's lap. The stretch was amazing. Ian was huge, hard and throbbing inside him. 

Ian groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. "I'll remember that for next time." Ian breathed, thrusting up shallowly. God, it felt incredible, and Mickey wasn't even moving yet. 

Mickey smirked down at him, grabbing both his wrists and pinning them above his head. Ian stared up at him, chest heaving in anticipation. 

Mickey didn't disappoint. He set a punishing pace immediately, slamming down on Ian's cock almost violently. His fingers tightened around Ian's wrists as he bounced in his lap. Ian struggled against the hold, desperate to get his hands on Mickey, but Mickey was so damn strong, so Ian relented, deciding to just enjoy the ride. 

Mickey threw his head back, moaning loudly as Ian's cock stretched him, filling him up so damn good. He rode him wildly, thrusting back roughly, causing Ian to cry out, his fingernails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood. Without warning, Mickey switched gears. He paused his movements, just letting Ian sit deep inside him as he clenched around his girth. Mickey smirked down at Ian as he ground his hips in tortuous, slow circles, choking out a sob when Ian's dick brushed his prostate. 

That's it. Ian can't take it anymore. He took advantage of Mickey's distraction, ripping his hands free and sitting up. He wrapped one arm around Mickey's waist, cupping the other under his ass, gripping the muscle possessively. 

"Kiss me." he breathed. "Fuck, Mick, kiss me."

Mickey threaded his fingers through Ian's hair, pulling his head back so he could drag their mouth together. The kiss was frantic, tongues sliding over each other fervently as Mickey rocked in Ian's lap. Ian surged up, desperate to get deeper. Closer. 

Mickey was on another plane, surrounded by nothing but Ian. Ian's mouth, his hands, his cock. His scent permeated Mickey's entire being, soaking into his skin, filling his heart. The Pull was throbbing between them, heightening their pleasure as they lost themselves in each other.

Mickey's had plenty of sex in his many years on Earth, but nothing had ever felt even remotely close to what he's experiencing with Ian right now. 

Mickey knows in that moment that Ian is in fact his fated mate. There is no other explanation for the shit he is feeling right now. That thought alone bring Mickey precariously close to the edge. He rocks in Ian's lap, wrapping his legs around his waist for better leverage. Ian shifts with him, both hands gripping Mickey's round ass cheeks, thrusting into his tight heat frantically. 

"Mick..." Ian sobs. "I'm gonna come." 

Mickey nods wildly, moving on instinct. He dips his head down, nosing along Ian's throat. His mouth waters, and he's shocked when he's hit with a dangerously strong urge to feed. 

Fuck. 

Mickey freezes, pulling back slightly. 

Ian looks up at him, confused. "Mick?"

"I, uh, I can't." Mickey stammers, desperately trying to control himself. 

Ian watches him for a moment, his hands still on his ass, his dick still buried inside him. 

It hits Ian like a ton of bricks, what Mickey wants. 

Ian nods, pulling Mickey close again. He kisses him hard, shoving his tongue into his mouth as he works Mickey on top of him. Ian is so close, he can feel it building in his stomach. And he knows what Mickey needs.

And he wants to give it to him.

"Do it." Ian moans into Mickey's mouth, sliding his tongue along his bottom lip. "Mick, please, I want it." 

Mickey pulled back, staring at Ian with wide, disbelieving eyes. No. He promised. He promised he wouldn't. 

"We said I wouldn't." Mickey moaned, picking up his pace again. He ground down on Ian's dick, pleasure coursing through his body. "I said..."

"You said you wouldn't do anything I didn't want. I want it, Mick. Please, fuck. C'mon." Ian begged, so close to coming that his toes were curling. 

Mickey nodded, his eyes getting impossibly dark as he descended upon Ian. Ian moaned as Mickey nosed at his neck. Ian's whole body was humming with expectant ecstacy. He can't believe this is about to happen. 

He can't believe how much he wants it. 

Mickey's tongue darts out, swiping gently along Ian's throat before he bares his teeth. 

Ian's breath hitches, and he throws his head back, anticipation rolling through his body in intense waves. He can feel Mickey's energy, that Pull he talks about, pulsing around them like a sonic wave. 

Mickey is totally overcome when his teeth break Ian's skin. He rolls his hips faster and faster, his body a blur on top of Ian as he works them both toward orgasm. 

The first taste of Ian's blood is transcendental. Unlike anything Mickey has ever tasted. The Pull is pounding inside him, filling the whole room with white hot electricity as Ian's lifeblood flows down Mickey's throat.

Ian chokes out a broken sob, leaning into Mickey's mouth. There is a sharp, piercing pain as Mickey's teeth dig into his skin, but Ian loves it. It feels otherworldly, and Ian comes. It hits him by surprise, and his whole body trembles with it. It feels like it goes on forever, the ecstasy and agony of the moment is almost too much. 

Mickey pulls back, gasping. His eyes stay locked with Ian as he spills between them, his untouched cock spurting hotly all over Ian's chest. 

Ian falls back against the blankets, sated in a way he's never experienced. Mickey's still seated on his lap, Ian's softening cock still buried deep inside him. He wipes a few stray drops of blood from his lips, licking his fingers clean as he considers what just happened. 

Before Mickey can start castigating himself, Ian laughs, pulling Mickey down on top of him. "Don't." Ian mumbles against Mickey's lips, kissing him softly. "I wanted it. And it was incredible." 

"Yeah?" Mickey asks, finally pulling away and moving to stand. He stood on wobbly legs, grabbing the first item of discarded clothing he saw and using it to clean up before tossing it to Ian. 

"Yeah." Ian nodded, cleaning himself up quickly before reaching for Mickey, pulling him back into the bed. He wrapped his arms around him, burrowing his face into Mickey's neck. God, he smelled even better after sex. "And see, nothing terrible happened. I'm still breathing, and we both just had mind blowing orgasms." 

Mickey chuckled. "Mind blowing, for sure." 

It is quiet between them for a while. Ian lights a cigarette, sharing it with Mickey as they basked in their shared afterglow. 

Soon, though, Ian couldn't stay silent any more. 

"Have you ever been in love?" he asked quietly. He thinks about that boy. The one Mickey's father killed. 

"No." Mickey replies immediately. "I mean, I love my siblings, but I've never been in love." 

"What's love like for vampires?" Ian asks, curling closer to Mickey, trying to eliminate any space between them. Mickey rests his head on Ian's chest, and Ian's sure he's never felt more content. 

"I'm not a vampire. I'm Upir. There's a difference." 

"What's the difference?" 

"I'm Ukranian." Mickey replied, as if it should be obvious. Ian chuckled, laying a kiss to Mickey's hair. 

Just then another thought occurred to Ian. "So is this how Upirs find their mates? This Pull or whatever?" 

Mickey leaned back, so he could look up at Ian. He shook his head, smiling. "No. The Pull is very rare. Upirs do, however, find their mates in an interesting way." 

"How?" 

"Well, it starts out with dreams." Mickey said, nuzzling his nose into Ian's bare chest. "Dreams of your mate, of the life you will share together." 

Ian nodded, his mind going back to the all the dreams he's had of Mickey in the past two months. Could that be a coincidence? Ian's always had strange dreams. 

"What else?" he asked, his curiosity growing. 

"Well, they will be drawn together by outside circumstances, over and over, until they can no longer avoid each other. Everywhere you look, you will see them." 

Ian smiled down at Mickey, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. Outside circumstances? Well, that was one way to describe how Ian and Mickey came together. 

"And then they live happily ever after?" Ian ventured, still smiling. 

"Not always." Mickey replied lowly, casting his eyes away. 

"What do you mean?" Ian asked carefully, reading the change in Mickey's mood instantly. 

Something was wrong. 

"Remember how I told you about my dad, and all the women he impregnated? My siblings?" 

Ian nodded, feeling dread pool in his gut. 

"Well, all my siblings mothers were just women. Drawn to Terry because he could be very charismatic when he wanted to be. But my mother, he was drawn to her. I don't know if it was the Pull or not, but looking back now, knowing what I do, it is very much possible."

"Oh." Ian said, his brow furrowing. 

"Yeah, and my dad kept promising to change her. I read it in her journals today. Promising her the world, that they would be together forever." 

"But he didn't do that?" Ian asked, fearing he already knew the answer. 

"No." Mickey said, shaking his head. "He lead her on, feeding from her until she gave birth to me, and died." Mickey's voice was dull, lifeless. It broke Ian's heart. 

Ian rolled over, caging Mickey underneath him. Mickey smiled up at him. But Ian's curiosity wasn't abated. 

"So they weren't mates then?" he asked, trying to keep all this Upir knowledge straight in his head. 

Mickey shook his head again. "No, only Upirs can be mated, but they were bonded." 

"What's the difference?" Ian was clearly not keeping up. 

"Bonding can happen between a human and an Upir, mating can not." Mickey replied. "Bonding is the psychic connection. An Upir can drink from a human, and if that connection is already there, the bond is formed." 

Ian's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

What?

"Are we bonded now?" he asked, a warm feeling pulsing in his veins. 

"I don't know, are we?" Mickey smiled coyly. 

Ian laughed, kissing Mickey again. God, he'd never tire of kissing this man. 

Ian pulled back as yet another question popped into his head. He opened his mouth to speak, and Mickey rolled his eyes.

Ian was on a roll, it seemed. Mickey didn't mind one bit, though. Ian showing interest in this shit meant that he was thinking about a future with Mickey. 

The thought sent a thrill down Mickey's spine, the Pull back with a vengeance at the simple thought. 

"So, what's the difference between being bonded, and being mated?" Ian finally asked, smirking as Mickey rolled out of his hold. He hovered over Ian peppering slow kisses along his neck before sliding down the bed to continue his southern track. 

Mickey considered the question for a minute. He's never had to explain this shit to anyone before. 

He had never wanted to. 

He paused his movements, his mouth hovering inches above Ian's sweat-slicked skin.

"Well, like I said, bonding can happen with a human. Maybe kinda like what we have going on, but mating can only take place between two Upirs." 

"Oh." Ian said, his face falling a little. "How do you do it?" 

"Um, so it usually happens during sex, which is fun." Mickey chuckled, running his fingers through the wiry red hair of Ian's chest. "During the act, the Upris will drink from each other, sharing their essence or whatever faggy hippie shit you wanna call it. The sharing of their blood coupled with the act of sex bonds the two Upirs together, forever. It creates and unbreakable connection." 

Ian smiled at the thought. That shit sounded nice as fuck. 

"So, does it all serve a purpose?" Ian asked, sighing as Mickey finally descended his body. Mickey's face was hovering over his groin, his hot breath fanning over his cock, stirring it back to life. 

"Yeah, I guess." Mickey replied, nipping at Ian's hip bone. "Mated Upirs are stronger, faster, even smarter. The psychic connection acquired during bonding will increase ten fold. Like sharing one mind, almost. Also makes them incredible hunters, which is a plus." Mickey smirked up at Ian, laying a feather-light kiss to the head of Ian's now hard cock. 

"Sounds nice." Ian sighed, reaching up to thread his fingers through Mickey's dark hair. Mickey chuckled, leaning into the touch as he darted his tongue out, sliding it up Ian's length tantalizingly show. 

"Did you ever want that?" Ian asked, unsure why he was ruining the beginning of an epic blowjob with more questions. He couldn't seem to stop himself. 

Mickey sat up on his elbows, letting Ian's cock slap back against his stomach. He cocked his head to the side, considering before answering. 

"No." he finally said, shaking his head. "I never wanted to fall in love. I never wanted to be bonded, and I sure as fuck didn't want to be mated." 

"Oh. You didn't?" Ian asked, his hand dropping back down to the bed as his mood took a nosedive. Was he wrong all along? Why can't he seem to get a read on Mickey? He's always guessing. It's frustrating. 

"No, not at all." Mickey replied, but he was smiling. He gripped Ian's erection, pumping it slowly as he flicked his tongue along the slit. "But then you came along and turned all my shit upside down." 

Ian beamed, his heart overflowing. Energy was buzzing around them, swirling around them in a heady cloud, making it hard to think beyond 'yes' and 'more'. "Really?" 

"Yeah. I think I've been pretty up front with you, Ian." Mickey said, running his tongue along Ian's leaking head. "I don't know how to make this work, but I'm fucking in this, Ian. For as long as you want me." 

'For fucking ever.' his mind supplied, but he kept his mouth shut. 

Ian smiled, surrendering to his own pull, dragging Mickey up his body until he was laid out on top of him again. Mickey leaned down, kissing Ian roughly as he ground their hard cocks together. 

"Now, are we done with the twenty questions and the declaration of feelings? Cuz I'm about ready to get you in me again." 

Ian laughed, rolling them on the bed until he was the one hovering over Mickey. He entered him without warning, and soon they were moving together again. 

Yeah, none of that other shit mattered. The Order, the Pull, the star-crossed lovers shit they had going on....none of that shit mattered at all. 

What mattered was this right here. Ian and Mickey, losing themselves in each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm at the end of my pre-written chapters, so the rest of the story will be written on a post by post basis. i'm not sure i'll be able to keep up with weekly-ish posting. but they'll be an update at least bi-weekly. thanks for your patience.
> 
> *hemoeroticism* - nadine's fun made up word for when you mix homoeroticism with blood ;)


	7. Bad Moon Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Milkovich manor descends into chaos once again on the night of the full moon....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please pardon my tardiness. some people may know this, but i was in the hospital for the past week with a very serious infection. i'm home now, and on the mend, but the meds they have me on leave me sleepy & uninspired. so writing has become somewhat challenging. 
> 
> i'm working on it, though, and i hope that this forced sabbatical from work will give me time and inspiration to write. 
> 
> thank you for your patience, and for your continued support. 
> 
> lets get crazy.....

It's still dark out when the banging starts. 

Mickey's not sleeping, obviously. He's just laying in bed, propped up on one elbow, watching Ian sleep. 

He's fucking gorgeous. 

Especially with Mickey's marks all over him. His eyes are drawn to a small bruise on Ian's neck. To anyone else, it would look like a normal hickey. Trashy, maybe, but nothing more. 

But Mickey knows better. Memories of earlier in the evening flood his brain, and his body reacts immediately. Possessive desire pools in his gut. 'MINE' echoing loudly in his mind as he replays memories of his interlude with Ian through his brain on loop. He tilts his head to the side, watching Ian sleep the sleep of the innocent.

Mickey can't get over how perfect Ian is. He's laying on his back in Mickey's bed. His arms out to his sides, his bare chest exposed. The sheets pool around his waist, framing his pale torso beautifully. Mickey gazed down at him, running a single finger along the cut of Ian's hip, smiling when Ian sighs in his sleep, unconsciously curling closer to Mickey. 

Mickey's about to initiate round three when the banging starts. 

His head shoots up, his instincts kicking in immediately. A low growl slips past his lips as he jumps from the bed, waking Ian.

"Mick, what's...." 

"Get up." Mickey interrupts him. "Get dressed. Someone is here. I don't know who." Mickey is already in a pair of sweats and a wife-beater, moving toward the door. 

Ian scrambles out of the bed, reaching for his clothes as he moves to follow his lover. Mickey pauses, hand on the doorknob. "Where do you think you're going?" 

"With you, obviously." Ian replies, tugging his sweats over his hips. 

"No. Fuck that. Stay here." Mickey shook his head, crossing the room once again. He stood in front of Ian, hands on his hips, tilting his head back so they were eye to eye. "We don't know who's down there. S'not safe." 

Ian shook his head, reaching up to curl his fingers into Mickey's bed head. "Don't care. I'm not letting you go down there alone." 

Just then another series of house-shaking banging rattles the walls. Mickey wants to tell Ian he can take care of himself, he's a god damn Upir. Ian is just a human, and anything could hurt him, at any time. But he doesn't say that. Because Mickey doesn't want Ian to think he considers him weak or any stupid shit like that. So Mickey just sighs, nodding jerkily as he turns and opens the door. 

In the hallway, Mandy and Katie are already standing in their own doorway. Hair mussed, barely dressed and sleepy-eyed. Mandy casts a wary eye to her brother before gazing down the long hallway. 

"Mick..." she whispers, fear evident in her voice. 

"I know. Don't worry." He replies. He's concerned too, but he can't let that shit show. They have done well to keep their primary residence a secret. It's in another man's name. None of the bills are in their names. Hell, even their cars are registered under their aliases. So there's really no way the Order could have found them. 

Not that the Order would knock. 

Ian's shaking as he follows Mickey down the hall. He has no idea who could be at the door. It can't be the Order, because they would just bust the door down, not knock like fucking Jehovah's Witnesses. 

Ian's mind goes to his brother, out there in the wild somewhere. What if he was injured? What if he was killed? What if...

His thoughts are shattered when another series of raucous banging shakes the foundation. Ian reaches out on instinct, twisting his fingers in between Mickey's. 

Mickey glances back at him as they descend the stairs, squeezing his hand as they make their way downstairs. The girls are right behind them, hands intertwined also. Mandy is in front of Katie, her free hand splayed out in front of her protectively. 

Mickey makes it to the landing, glancing at the others over his shoulder. He releases Ian's hand, pushing him gently toward the girls as he grabs a metal bat that's leaning up against the door jamb. (all the guns are locked up in the den) He grips it tightly as his other hand reaches for the door knob. He flings the door open, raising the bat high, ready to swing. 

"What the fuck!!!" Fiona screams, her hands flying up to defend herself as Mickey's bat comes flying at her face. 

Mickey pulls back at the last minute, dropping the bat to the floor with a clatter, shocked to find Ian's sister standing in their doorway at 1:30 in the god damn morning. 

"Fiona?" Ian gasps, coming up behind Mickey to get a better look at his sister. Fiona looks haggard. She's pale, with dark circles under her eyes. Her hair is knotted in messy bun on top of her head, stringy pieces hanging in her face and down along her shoulders. She's in a pair of sweats, with one of Ian's old army sweatshirts hanging loosely on her shoulders. 

She glances from Ian to Mickey, catching sight of the girls behind them, who just stare back at Fiona, confused now instead of scared.

"Jesus, Ian." Fiona says, forcing her way inside. Ian glances down at her, his head cocked to the side in confusion as his sister pushes her way into Mickey's foyer. "I am so glad I found you, where's Lip? We're going home." she reaches for Ian, but he takes a step back, shaking his head. 

"Fiona, what are you doing here? What do you mean, going home? How did you even know how to find us?" 

Fiona has the decency to look guilty as she speaks the next sentence. She forces her way further inside, closing the door behind her. "I had Tony ping your cell phone." she shrugs. 

"You what? Tony the cop? What the fuck, Fi?" Ian's anger is quick, surprising him. He's so damn mad, his whole body is radiating with rage. This is such a Fiona thing to do. Ian feels violated, angry with his sister for crossing that line.

"What did you expect me to do, Ian?" Fiona crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at Mickey before turning her attention back to her little brother. "You guys won't talk to me. You disappear of the face of the earth. You take leave from your job, from school. Lip hasn't been to his own job in two fucking months. Then there's the god damn stalker car, sitting outside the house for two god damn months, then you guys disappear, and so does the car? I thought you'd been kidnapped or human trafficked or some shit. Then Tony tells me you're here, have been here this whole time. I'm not stupid. Something's not right, and it has to do with these fucking people!" she punctuates her last word with an accusing finger pointed right at Mickey. She glares at him again, her eyes hard. Mickey just stares back, eyebrows raised. "I don't know what the fuck is going on here, but it's not right. Something is very fucking wrong." 

"Fiona, I'm not going anywhere." Ian sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. "And Lip's not even here right now, so..."

"Where is he?" Fiona barks, taking the last step so she's right in Ian's face. She stares up at him, her eyes hard. "It's after one in the morning. Where the fuck is he?" 

Finally, Mickey can take no more. He wedges a hand between Ian and Fiona's abdomens, trying to separate them. "Okay, that's enough." he says lowly. 

Fiona rounds on Mickey, her gaze hot. "This is none of your business." she growls. 

"Isn't it, though?" Mickey replies, pushing her back a few steps so Ian has some god damn breathing room. "This is my house. You showed up here, uninvited, in the middle of the god damn night." he pushed Ian back toward the girls, who were still standing by the staircase. Once Ian was close, Mandy wrapped a hand around his arm, pulling him in between the two girls protectively. "And as far as I can gather, Ian and Lip are adults. They aren't little kids you can push around or punish when they don't do as you say." he turned to Ian, who was red-faced with embarrassment, wedged between the two girls. Mandy and Katie both had a hand on one of his arms, holding him close. "Do you want to go with your sister, Ian? Or would you rather stay her with me?" Mickey cocked his head to the side, giving Ian a warm smile. 

Ian wriggled free of the girls' grip, crossing the room quickly and sliding up to Mickey once more. He wrapped his fingers around Mickey's wrist, turning to face his sister, him and Mickey side by side. "I'm staying right here." Ian said vehemently. "I'm not going home with you, Fiona, and neither is Lip. We're gonna be staying here for a while." he wishes he could tell her it's for her own safety. He wishes he could tell her he's not pushing her away, he's protecting her. He wishes he could tell her everything. But he can't. 

Fiona balked, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes dark with anger. "No you most certainly are not." she replied. "Lip just finished recovering from his mystery illness, and you need constant care. You and I both know it's true Ian." she rolled her eyes when Ian opened his mouth to retort. "What is this guy gonna do when you have a swing?" she asked, turning her hard gaze toward Mickey once more. "Do you have any idea what taking care of a person with Bipolar disorder is like? How hard it can be?" 

Mickey just stared back at her, his mouth hanging open in shock. Did she really just say that? Right in front of Ian? Mickey can feel Ian's fingers tightening around his wrist. Mickey flipped his hand over, slotting their fingers together. 

"You know what." Mickey says calmly, taking a single step closer to Fiona, dragging Ian along with him by their interlocked hands. Ian's not sure what's about to happen, but the hairs standing up on the back of his neck have him feeling anxious and on edge. He's angry with his sister for insinuating he can't take care of himself, and he's scared of what might happen right now between Mickey and Fiona. He trusts Mickey, but something about this interaction sets his nerves on end. "I think it's about time you left, don't you?" 

Fiona is still glaring at Mickey hard, but Mickey just stares right back, head cocked slightly to the right. The longer the stare-off goes on for, the softer Fiona's features become. Her shoulders slump, her eyebrows relax, her hands fall limply to her sides. Mickey continues to gaze deep into her eyes, all his attention laser-locked on Fiona. "You know what? I think you want to leave. I think you are embarrassed, and you're certain you've overreacted. You don't know why you did this. It's obvious to you that Ian and Philip are happy and safe here, and you are pretty out of line right now. Don't you think?" 

Fiona nods slowly, confusion washing over her face as she listens to Mickey's low, melodious voice. "You're right. I'm so sorry." she says quietly. Her eyes go wide as she glances around the room, her expression morphing from placid blankness to one of complete compliance right before Ian's eyes. 

"Good." Mickey smiles darkly, taking another step closer. He's so close to Fiona now, their noses are almost touching. Ian watches, part intrigued, part horrified, as Mickey mesmerizes his sister right in front of him. "Now, before you go, you want to tell me all about that strange SUV that's been parked at your house. Don't you?" 

"Yeah." Fiona nods slowly. "Yeah, I do." her head swivels a bit, like she wants to look at Ian, but Mickey's calm voice pulls her back. 

"Eyes on me, Fiona. Tell me about the car." 

Fiona's eyes snap back to Mickey's, and she nods again. "Well, the truck was parked outside for a long time, then that shit with Liam happened. Ian and Lip ran away, and the car left. Haven't seen it since. But sometimes there is a man. He walks past the house a few times a day." 

"A man?" Ian asks, his eyes wide. Anxiety spikes in his blood at the thought of his family still being in danger. Mickey shoots him a warning glare and Ian clamps his mouth shut. The last thing he wants to do is interrupt whatever mindfuckery Mickey is pulling on his sister. He's not sure how mesmerization works, but he doesn't want to accidentally fry Fiona's brain or something. 

"Do you remember what this man looked like?" Mickey asks, his blue eyes boring into Fiona's brown ones. 

She gives a lethargic shake of her head, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Never saw his face. Always wearing a long black coat, with a hood. But he was tall. And thin. Like Ian." Fiona's eyes slip closed and Ian's afraid for a moment that she's about to pass out. 

"Good, Fiona." Mickey murmurs, gripping her under the chin and turning his head to catch her eyes again. "Now, you are going to go home and go to bed. You are going to wake up tomorrow and forget this ever happened. You are no longer worried about Ian or Lip. They are safe here with us. You trust them, and know that they are well cared for and in no danger. You are happy they are here. Do you understand?" 

Fiona smiles at Mickey, all teeth. Ian thinks she looks a little manic, and another chill runs down his spine. "Yeah, okay. I'm glad they're here." she nods, eyes glazed over and dull. "I know they are safe here with you." she locks eyes with Mickey, that same crazed smile splitting her lips. "It's good. It's good." she babbles. "I'm gonna go home. I'm tired." 

"Good, Fiona. Get some rest." Mickey nods, releasing Ian's hands to grip Fiona by the shoulders and turn her toward the front door. He opens the door and ushers her out. He watches her make he way down the walkway and back to her car. He doesn't turn around until the taillights of her car disappear down the end of the driveway. 

Once he's certain she's gone, Mickey turns on his heel and strides back into the house, locking the door behind him. He leans up against the wood, sighing. 

Ian is standing there, his face twisted in the perfect picture of shock. Mandy and Kate are still behind him, holding hands in the hallway, looking more irritated than anything. 

"Well, now we're fucked." Mandy spat, irritated. She untangled herself from Katie and marched back over to the staircase, throwing herself down on the bottom step with a huff. "This is just wonderful." 

"What, what are you talking about? Is Fiona gonna be okay? Can she drive like that?" Ian asks, running a hand through his hair before crossing his arms over his chest. He's confused and a little concerned now. For Fiona, and Lip, who's still out there in the forest, all alone. Ian glances up at the grandfather clock in the front hall, and it's only a little after two in the morning. There is a lot of night left, and Ian is suddenly very anxious for the sun to come up. Mandy's comment is doing little to assuage that anxiety.

"I mean, the Order is still staking out your house, and now that your stupid sister came down here to play the hero, they obviously know where we are. They would have followed her. They could be outside right now for all we know, ready to destroy us all. We can not stay here. We are going to have to run again." she said, venom dripping in her tone. She totally ignores Ian's concerns for his sister, rounding on her brother, casting an accusatory finger in his direction. "I TOLD you this was going to happen. As soon as you wedged yourself in the middle of this mess with your human plaything and his mongrel brother. I told you we would have to run. I told you the Order could still come back. I told you we were not safe. And you promised me you had it under control. You promised me nothing would change. And yet here we are. We spend all our time babysitting the dog and your human. Any time we are not playing caretaker, were are doing fucking homework on the Order, to protect them. To keep them safe, all the while putting ourselves in danger. And for what? What do you expect to get out of this, Mikhailio? What do you really think the endgame is here? You're going to defeat a centuries-old religious order with only your ragtag bunch of misfits at your back? You're going to save the day, the dog and your human lover, knowing all the while it will only end in heartache? You will not change him. Does he know that?" she rose from the steps, striding toward Ian, fire in her eyes. "You are not worth my brother's life. You will never be like us. We don't change people. You are wasting your time. I will not let my brother die so yours can live. You are nothing to us, and we will go on long after you are dust on the breeze." 

"Mandy!" Katie's shocked voice shattered Mandy's diatribe. Mandy spins toward her lover's voice, clapping a hand over her mouth like she can't believe those words just came from her. Her wide eyes flick from Katie to Mickey to Ian and back again in a matter of seconds. "What is wrong with you?"

Mandy just shakes her head, hand still clasped over her lips. 

"I can't believe you would be so incredibly cruel." Katie whispers, eyes wide and wet. Before Mandy can respond, she's shoving past Mandy and flying up the stairs. 

Ian hears a door slam at the end of the hall and it's just him and the Milkovich siblings, standing in the hallway, staring at each other.

"Mandy..." Mickey says quietly, taking a step forward. Mandy glares at him, taking a step back. She doesn't leave, though, and Mickey takes that as a good sign. "I know you think I've put us in an impossible situation, but it's not what you think." he glances at Ian as he speaks, unable to look away for too long. Ian looks scared, and it breaks Mickey's heart. He just wants to protect him. 

He has to protect him. And his family. And now Ian's family too, it seems. 

It's a lot for one person, but Mickey sees no alternative. 

"It's exactly what I think, Mick." Mandy sighs, her voice strained. She runs a hand through her unruly hair, pulling it in frustration. "How am I wrong?" she demands.

"Well, first of all, Ian is not just some plaything to me." he's not sure why he starts with that, but it feels like the most important thing to rectify. He takes a deep breath before he goes any further, not quite ready to speak on this topic with his sister. "I have reason to believe we are Fated." 

Mandy gasps, her hand once more flying up to cover her mouth. Her eyes go comically wide and Mickey has to focus very hard not to laugh at her gobsmacked expression.

It's a lot to take in. Mandy, much like Mickey, has never even heard of a true case of Fated Mates among their people. It's a fairy tale.

Or at least, they thought it was. 

Ian, for his part, is feeling incredibly exposed and embarrassed in the moment. He can feel a hot blush breaking out along his neck and chest, and he's sure his face is red as a tomato. He's not sure why Mickey talking about them possibly being Fated makes him so shy all of the sudden. It all just feels so new, and so incredibly personal. Ian hasn't even had any real time to consider what it means to him, and now it's the topic of conversation with Mickey's sister, who Ian is now sure doesn't even like him all that much.

"You can't know that. It's not real." Mandy retorts, just like Mickey knew she would. 

"I think I would know better than you, since it's happening to me." Mickey replies hotly. "You know nothing of it, you have never felt anything like this. Not with any of your numerous lovers. And you probably never will. So keep your god damn mouth shut about it." 

Mandy's face is a strange mixture of stricken and shocked, and Mickey fears he may have hurt her feelings, but she needs to know how wrong she is. He takes another deep, yet unnecessary breath, his gaze softening. "I am not trying to hurt you, Mandy, I just need you to understand. This is not some whim on my part." he locks eyes with Ian, taking in his soft expression with a small smile. "It is real, and I gotta do whatever I can to protect it. Do you understand?" 

Mandy nods, her eyes flicking between Ian and Mickey. She's desperately trying to process this whole situation. She knows Mickey had mentioned being drawn to Ian by the Pull. She recalls the conversation quite clearly, back when all this madness started. She thinks back to how she felt when Mickey told her that. Disbelief is the key emotion that comes to mind. But now, watching her brother with this man, she finds herself wondering if it could all be true.

The Pull. Fated Mates. 

It's all too much for her in the moment. Along with the Order's return, Katie's unexpected reappearance in her life, and the newly acquired werewolf problem they've been saddled with, Mandy feels like she needs a strong drink and a year's worth of uninterrupted silence. 

"We can talk about this in the morning. And we will also talk about going to the cabin. It's not safe here anymore. You know it, and so do I. So we should all start packing." she shakes her head tiredly, turning away without another word and walking up the stairs. 

Once Mickey hears his sister's door close, he turns toward Ian once again. "I'm sorry." he says lowly, taking a tentative step closer to Ian. 

"Why are you sorry?" Ian balks, reaching out and pulling Mickey to him. He wraps his arms around Mickey's smaller body, squeezing tightly so there is no space between them. "None of this is your fault, just like none of it is mine. Or Lip's. Or Mandy's. We are all victims here."

"Well, now they are after your family. And that is on me. If I had figured this out sooner, your sister and other siblings would not be in danger right now. And I mesmerized your god damn sister. So out of line. Jesus." Mickey tried to pull away, but Ian's grip was strong. 

Maybe Mickey didn't want to pull away after all. 

"Fiona's gonna be okay, right?" Ian asked, gripping Mickey tighter. Mickey nodded, pulling back so they were eye to eye. 

"Yeah, she'll be fine. Mesmerization doesn't fuck with, like, cognitive abilities. She'll drive home, just like she would normally. She'll just go to sleep like I suggested, and forget she was ever here. I wouldn't put your sister in danger like that." Mickey hopes Ian knows that. He'd never hurt anyone Ian cares about. 

"Okay then." Ian nods, a relieved smile splitting his lips. "Mickey, listen to me. Don't worry about Fiona. We need her safe and ignorant to this whole shit show. I'm not mad you fucked with her head a little. I just want her safe. And as far as the rest of it goes, we are doing the best that we can with what little information we have. There is next to no info on this stupid fucking Order. It's like they don't exist anymore. How are we supposed to fight something that's been a memory since before I was born?" 

Mickey nodded, finally untangling himself from Ian's arms. "You know what? I think you're onto something there... This whole situation feels foreign to me. Like it's not the same Order I've been fighting my whole life. This behavior is very out of character for them. Sloppy, unprofessional. Something's changed." Mickey ran a hand over his mouth before sliding his fingers through his hair. "Okay, yeah. We can work with this. But not until tomorrow. Once your brother returns in the morning, we are leaving. I have some ideas, but I want us all together to talk about it. No use in doing anything tonight. You need rest." 

"I don't feel tired." Ian replied. "How am I supposed to sleep knowing someone is stalking us? My family at the house isn't safe, Lip's out in the woods all alone, and someone is out there, just waiting for us to fuck up so they can take him out. How am I supposed to just forget all that and go to sleep?" Ian's voice was rising, his chest heaving, his hands running through his hair compulsively. 

He was losing his shit. 

Mickey grabbed Ian by his shoulders, turning him so they were eye to eye again. "Ian, you need to relax. Getting all riled up is not going to help you. You have had a long night, and my feeding from you probably isn't helping. What we need to do is go to bed, and we will work all this shit out in the morning, okay?" 

Ian nodded, feeling unsure. He was tired, but also anxious and scared. He felt out of control, like his thoughts were going a mile a minute, in a million different directions.  


"I need to take my meds." he whispered, his anxiety spiking. He can' believe he forgot. 

That's not like him at all. 

"Okay, that's good." Mickey nodded, gripping Ian by the wrist and dragging him to the kitchen. 

Ian took a pill out of each bottle as Mickey poured him a glass of water out of a pitcher in the fridge. Ian tossed his meds back and guzzled the glass, feeling better instantly. Just knowing the drugs were in his system were enough of a panacea to sooth his frayed nerves. 

"If you'll let me, I can help you get some rest." Mickey said quietly, watching Ian deposit his glass in the sink like a good house guest. 

"You mean mesmerize me?" Ian asked tiredly, trudging across the kitchen to fall back into Mickey's arms. 

Mickey nodded, wrapping his arms around Ian's middle, pulling their bodies flush together. They just held each other for a moment, in the quiet of the dark kitchen. The Pull throbbed between them, but it felt different now. Less of an aching desire, and more of a warm pulse of liquid electricity flowing between them, connecting them. Mickey felt the comforting warmth of their shared energy swirling between them, thrumming inside him. 

He wonders in that moment what Ian feels. 

A slow, contented sigh slips past Ian's lips in that moment, and Mickey's no longer curious. He can feel Ian's body relax against his, any and all anxiety and unsurety draining out of him as they bask in their shared connection. 

Hell, he may not have to mesmerize him at all, the Pull may be enough to calm him.

Curious. 

"C'mon, let's go to bed. We have a long day tomorrow." Mickey murmurs, leaning back so he can look up at Ian. He looks better, less stricken, more sleepy. Mickey surges forward, capturing Ian's lips in a quick kiss. It's over before Ian can react, and Mickey is once again dragging him by his wrist toward the stairs. 

 

***

 

Mickey stood in front of Ian, slowly stripping off the clothes Ian threw on when the Fiona fiasco began. He gripped the bottom of his t shirt, sliding it up over his head as Ian raised his arms tiredly. It had been a long, crazy night, and it wasn't even close to sunrise yet. Ian's meds were swimming in his blood, and he was starting to feel woozy, but his brain was still torturing him with images of Lip wounded in the forest, or the Order rounding up his family for execution. He could feel his anxiety creeping up his spine, and he was desperately clinging to the last vestiges of calm his body contained. 

He was drawn from his thoughts when he felt Mickey's fingers on the hem of his sweats. He looked up, locking eyes with Mickey as he slid his sweatpants down his hips. Ian stared at Mickey, a small smile forming on his face as he stepped out of his pants and moved toward the bed. Ian's back hit the mattress and he stared up at Mickey looming over him, feeling his anxiety ebb just the slightest bit. 

Mickey smiled down at Ian, already sending out calming vibes as he quickly stripped down to his underwear and slipped into bed next to Ian. He pulled the quilts up over their bodies, turning on his side so he could hover over Ian's prone form. 

Mickey propped himself up on one elbow, reaching up with his free hand so he could run his fingers through Ian's red hair. "How you doing?" he asked quietly. 

"Stressed the fuck out. Scared." Ian replied honestly. Why bother lying? Mickey can probably see right through him. Ian is starting to realize there is still a lot he has to learn about Mickey. 

But he wants to. He wants to learn it all.

"It's gonna be okay." Mickey replied, massaging Ian's scalp with his fingertips. "I'm not going to let anything happen, okay?" Mickey never thought he'd find himself in a position like this. Where the well being of some human would take precedent over his own survival, the survival of his family. But now that it's happening, it feels like it was always supposed to be this way. 

He can see no alternative. Ian is his now. His responsibility. His, god, his Fated Mate? Mickey's still not certain, and the thought of it being true both excites and frightens him. It can only end one of two ways. And he's not eager for either eventuality to present itself. 

But now that he's in the middle of it, he has to see it through to the end. He'd sooner cut his own heart out than abandon Ian. 

He pushes his aura out, surrounding Ian with the warmest, most calming, loved-filled vibrations he's ever felt. It's easier with Ian than it's ever been with any of the other people he's mesmerized. Because it's real, Mickey supposes. He really feels these serene, affectionate, passionate emotions. He doesn't have to fake it, it just is. As he pours his feelings out of his body and into Ian's, he watches his face soften and his eyes sparkle just a bit. 

"Is that you?" Ian whispers, a ghost of a smile blooming on his face as a quiet, peaceful calmness washes over him. 

Mickey nods, his fingers still dancing through Ian's hair. "Yeah, feel good?" 

Ian nods, his eyes slipping closed as he succumbs to the sensation. "You do this to a lot of people?" 

"Not like this." Mickey says, finally letting his hand fall to Ian's chest as he scoots closer to him on the bed. Ian moves with him, wrapping his free arm around his shoulder and pulling Mickey to his chest. "It's always a chore, pushing my energy out onto someone else. Depletes me. It's not easy to make someone feel something they don't want to." 

"Why am I different?" Ian wonders aloud, yawning. His eyes are heavy, and the weight of Mickey's mojo feels like a warm fuzzy blanket, adding to his drowsiness. 

"I dunno." Mickey shrugged against Ian's chest. He leans back just enough so their eyes can meet. "I guess because you want it. You want me in your head. You want what I'm offering. That peace, that comfort. You welcome it, so it's easier." 

"I want whatever you have to give." Ian whispers, leaning down so he can press his lips to Mickey's. It's over well before Mickey is ready for it to be, and soon Ian is laying against the pillows again, eyes closed, a placid smile on his face. 

Mickey smiles, watching Ian's face until it's clear the other man has finally fallen asleep. 

Mickey stays up the rest of the night, watching Ian sleep. His mind is spinning, there is so much to consider, so many steps he has to take to protect his family, to keep one step ahead of the Order. 

His head might be a mess, but for the first time in his life, his soul is quiet. 

Mickey's not sure what's going to happen next, but as he watches Ian sleep peacefully, he's certain he'll do whatever it takes to keep him just like this. Safe, hopefully even happy. 

Mickey settles better on his pillow, turning his body so he can watch Ian sleep as the stars start to fade and the moon makes it's way slowly across the night sky.

Tomorrow is a new day, and Mickey has a feeling it's going to be a long one. 

 

***

 

The sun is just barely creeping through the dark curtains when chaos once again descends upon the house. 

Mickey is laying in bed, in the exact position he was in hours ago when Ian finally fell asleep. He hasn't moved an inch, his body content to sit stone still, not even bothering to breathe. He just watches Ian sleep, the Pull quivering just below his skin, tethering him to Ian. 

He enjoys the feeling. Being tethered to Ian. Connected. 

The sweet solace of the silent moment is obliterated when Mickey hears the front door open, slamming against the wall as someone tumbles inside. 

"Oh for the love of Christ." he mutters, tossing the blankets off and leaping out of bed. Ian stirs immediately, the loss of Mickey's comforting weight next to him rousing him from his slumber. 

"Mick? What's going on?" Ian mumbles quietly, rubbing his eye tiredly with a loose fist. 

"Someone is here again. It's like god damn Grand Central in this bitch. What the fuck?" he starts dressing again, pulling on last nights clothes as Ian does the same on the other side of the bed. Mickey grabs his phone, checking the time. It's a little after six in the morning, just after sunrise. "It could be your brother, back from his turn." Mickey says, pocketing his phone and moving toward the door, Ian close behind him.

Just as Mickey's fingertips graze the doorknob, a loud thud echos throughout the house, followed by Iggy's screaming. 

"Mick! Get the fuck down here, your boy took a fucking arrow!!"

Mickey glances back at Ian, who looks like he's about to vomit.

"Lip?" Ian asks, his whole body going cold. He reaches out, gripping the hem of Mickey's t shirt tightly in his fist. What now? What's happened to his brother?

Mickey turns, peeling Ian's hand from his shirt and threading their fingers together. "C'mon. Let's go see what's up before you start freaking out. I'm sure it's not that big a deal. It's gonna be fine." Mickey says all this, unsure if he's telling the truth or not. He's seen what an arrow from the Order can do to a body. 

It's not pretty. 

Mickey's tightens his grip on Ian's hand as they leave the room and make their way down the hallway. 

Mandy and Kate are once again standing in the hallway, looking twice as disheveled as they did the previous evening. Mickey can only guess they worked things out, since Kate has several new bruises along her neck and collar bone. Feeding marks. Of course his sister would be feeding from Kate. Wonderful. He shakes his head, striding past the women and toward the stairs. 

"Is this going to be routine from now on?" Mandy snarks from behind him as the four of them quickly make their way downstairs. "Are we never going to have a moment's peace?" 

"Shut the fuck up, Mandy. Jesus." Mickey spat, having had quite enough of his sister's bullshit. 

They make their way to the front hall, and find Iggy standing over Lip at the base of the stairs. 

"What the fuck, Igg?" Mickey demands, dropping to his knees in front of Lip's naked, unconscious body. Lip has a long black arrow protruding from his left thigh. The shaft is covered in carved runes, stained red with Lip's blood. The arrowhead is a twisting mess of what was once surely intricately designed metal, covered in bits of blood and tissue, mixed in with fur from Lip's wolf. 

"I was just coming home." Iggy says hurriedly, pushing his hair back with a blood soaked hand, smearing a red mess all over his forehead. "I found him on the edge of the property, by the driveway, all fucked up."

"Clearly." Mickey replied sarcastically. "Was there anyone else around? Did you see the Order anywhere?" 

"Don't you think I would have led with that if that were the case?" Iggy balked.

Mickey chose not to reply, instead clamping his hands down on the wound, glancing around the room. "For fucks sake, somebody get me some god damn towels and a belt. Leather." 

Mickey's stern voice spurs the room into action. Iggy lurches toward the staircase. 

"Kate, a bottle of vodka. Mandy, get the fucking first aid kit from the bathroom. Ian, get over here and put pressure on this shit. We gotta break this arrow off so we can slide it outta his thigh." 

Ian gapes at Mickey like he's grown a second head. His hands are shaking and his feet refuse to move. 

"Ian!" Mickey barks, motioning with his head. "C'mon. Your brother needs you." 

That does it. Ian drops to his knees next to Lip, his hands clamping down on top of Mickey's over the wound in Lip's thigh. Lip jolts awake, his eyes flying open. He coughs, spit flying from his mouth as he bleeds all over his brother's hands.

"Ah fuck." Lip hisses, his body bowing off the hardwood floor. Blood is pooling around his leg, and Ian can't help but think he's losing too much. 

Just then, Kate and Mandy come flying from different ends of the house, with Iggy clamoring down the stairs, a pile of towels overflowing in his arms, a leather belt dangling from his fist. 

Mandy comes skidding to a halt in front of Mickey, dropping the first aid kit next to Lip's body. Katie hands Mickey the liquor bottle, kneeling down next to Mickey to watch the madness unfold. Iggy leans over, stuffing the towels under Lip's bleeding leg, and handing one to Mickey to staunch the bleeding. 

Mickey presses the towel into Ian's hands, who lays it against the edge of the wound.

"What happened to you?" Mickey demanded, leaning over Lip. The other man's eyes were wide, afraid. More afraid that Mickey's ever seen Lip. 

"I don't know." Lip shook his head slowly, wincing in pain. "One second I was running through the woods, full on wolf-mode, and the next I was shot. I couldn't move. Shit got me right in the flank. I laid in the woods, bleeding, until the sun came up." he coughed again, closing his eyes. "When the sun came up, and I turned back, I started crawling toward the house. Must've passed out." 

"Yeah, dude." Iggy nods. "You were curled up in a ball by the stone wall. Thought you were fucking dead." 

Mickey glares at his brother, shaking his head. Now is not the time to talk about Lip fucking dying. 

"Drink." Mickey says, holding the bottle up to Lip's mouth. Lip glares up at him, but closes his lips around the bottle, letting Mickey pour the booze down his throat, some of it slipping from between his lips and wetting his dirty hair. Mickey tilts the bottle up as far as it will go, blocking out the rest of the room as he watches Lip's adam's apple bob as he chugs the vodka. Once he's certain Lip is feeling tipsy at least, he wrenches the bottle from his lips and rips Ian's hands away from the wound. 

The soiled towel falls to the floor next to Lip's bloody body as he howls in pain. He sounds more like a wolf in that moment than he ever has in human form. His head falls back against the wood floor as he writhes in obvious agony.

Ian falls back on his ass, staring at his bloody hands. Lip's blood. Ian can feel bile trying to rise in his throat, memories of blood and gore and death fighting to surface in his mind. He clamps his eyes closed, breathing through his nose, desperately clinging to his composure. 

Mickey tilts his head one way and then the other, eyeing the wound. He then grips Lip's thigh and twists it to get a look at the other side of the arrow. 

"Fuck you! That hurts!" Lip screams, his body shaking with pain as Mickey manhandles him. 

"Calm down." Mickey replies quietly, gripping the meat of Lip's leg in his right hand and reaching toward the wound with his left. "Deep breaths, you need to slow your heart down or you're going to bleed to death."

Lip glares at him, but takes a deep breath an holds it for a moment, before letting it out slowly. 

"Good. That's better." Mickey says, gently probing the wound with his fingertips. It's jagged around the edges, probably from that mangled metal mess of an arrowhead. The skin is torn and the muscle underneath is shredded. 

"Can't you help him?" Ian begs wetly, tears flowing freely from his eyes. His fingers, covered in his brother's blood, twitch on his bent knees as he kneels next to his brother. "Like, mesmerize him?" 

"No." Mickey shook his head, not taking his eyes off Lip's wound. He glanced up at Ian for a moment, staring into his scared, sad eyes. Tears were flowing freely down his face, and Mickey's chest tightened painfully. "Mesmerization doesn't work on other supernatural beings. Werewolves, other Upirs, fucking witches. That shit is useless on them. I can't do shit for your brother except pull this fucking arrow out of his leg. So put that belt between his teeth and hold him down, I'm going in."

Ian blanched, moving quickly to do as Mickey said. Mandy and Kate flanked Lip on both sides, each girl gripping a shoulder tight and holding him to the floor. Ian grabbed the belt just as Iggy knelt down between Lip's spread legs, clamping his hands around Lip's ankles, pinning his feet to the floor. Iggy pinches his eyes shut, turning away from the carnage and Lip's exposed junk. 

Mickey rolls his eyes at his brother's ridiculousness before returning his focus to the task at hand.

Ian hesitated, belt dangling over Lip's mouth. His brother glanced up at him, pain evident in his eyes. "It's gonna be okay, Lip." Ian murmured, slipping the belt between Lip's bared teeth. "Mick's gonna fix it, okay?" he gripped the belt tight, wincing as Lip's teeth clamped down on it. 

Mickey waited until Lip was secured as well as he could be until he made his next move. It was gonna hurt like a bitch, and he'd rather not get a foot in the teeth. Once he was sure Lip wasn't gonna deck him, he plunged his fingers into the wound, spreading the flesh around the shaft. 

Lip wailed in pain, writhing under the weight of so many hands on him as Mickey stretched the wound open with his fingers. 

"I gotta make the hole bigger." he said, locking eyes with a furious Lip. "It's the only way to get the shaft out." 

Mickey continued to widen the wound, until he could see the shaft clearly through the mess of tissue and tendons. Once he had a clear view of it, he withdrew his hand and gripped the shaft of the arrow. "This might hurt." he said, snapping the end of the arrow off sharply. The sound of the wood shattering echoed through the silent room, followed immediately by Lip's muffled whimpers. 

Lip's whole body spasmed, and it took everyone's combined strength to hold him to the floor. Lip's teeth dug into the belt as he screamed around the leather. His eyes bugged out of his head as fresh blood flowed from the wound. 

"Mop that up." Mickey said, motioning toward the puddle of blood with his head as he lifted Lip's leg slightly and slid the arrow out the back of his thigh. Once the shaft was free, Mickey let it fall to the floor with a clatter, grabbing up the vodka once more and pouring it liberally over the gaping wound as Iggy awkwardly used the many hand towels to mop up Lip's blood around Mickey's moving hands.

Lip jumped, screaming around the belt as the stinging liquid cleansed the wound. 

"Mandy, gauze and tape." Mickey barked, applying pressure to the wound to control the bleeding. 

Mandy moved quickly, flicking open the lid of the first aid kit and rummaging around inside for the items her brother needed. She grabbed up the items, tossing them onto a clean portion of the floor by Mickey's knee. 

Lip's eyes rolled back in his head, a low moan slipping past his gagged lips as he lost consciousness. 

"Mick, he's out." Iggy remarked unhelpfully, letting go of Lip's body and shuffling away to sit on the floor. 

The girls let go as well, and soon the only ones left near Lip were Ian and Mickey. Ian dropped the belt to the floor, grimacing in sympathy at the red welts and blood around his brother's mouth. 

He never wanted to cause Lip any pain. 

"I can see he's out, Igg. Thanks." Mickey snarked, packing the wound with gauze before moving to wrap it. He spun the gauze around Lip's thigh tightly before taping the whole thing up tight. He's no doctor, but he's been patching up Order victims since before his turn. 

This was small time. 

Once the wound was wrapped he nodded toward Iggy. "Get his legs. We're gonna bring him upstairs." 

"All the way upstairs?" Iggy whined. "He's still fucking naked, and he's covered in rabbit guts." 

"Fuck off, Igg." Mickey barked. "Grab his god damn legs and shut your fucking mouth." 

Iggy rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. He trudged across the room, tossing one of the soiled towels over Lip's dick before grabbing his ankles. Mickey huffed impatiently at his brother's continued idiocy, gripping Lip under his arms. The men lifted him off the floor and moved slowly toward the stairs. 

Ian watched, still horror-stricken as blood seeped through Lip's dressing. Small droplets landing on the floor like breadcrumbs, leaving a macabre trail from the spot on the floor, all the way up the stairs and out of sight as Iggy and Mickey carried Lip to the second floor.  


Once they were out of sight, Mandy wandered over to Ian, grabbing the vodka bottle on her way across the room. She shoved the bottle into Ian's hands, dropping down next to him on the floor. Ian took the bottle gratefully, guzzling a long sip and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Mandy laid her head on Ian's shoulder, giving him silent comfort as Katie went about cleaning up the mess left behind. 

Ian was shocked by Mandy's tender behavior, after what she'd said earlier, but he was far too scared and nervous to question her kindness in the moment.

Mandy felt bad for the way she'd acted earlier. She was frightened, rightfully so. But none of this was Ian's fault, or his brother's. And if what her own brother says is true, Mandy is fairly certain that Ian and Lip are not going anywhere, any time soon. So she can either get on board and fight, or run and leave them to it.

And Milkovichs don't run. Not anymore. They protect what is theirs, with their lives if need be. 

And it seems like the Gallaghers are theirs now. Mandy's still not sure how it's all going to pan out, but if Mickey's in, so is she. 

Katie moved around the room quickly, wiping up the blood with clean towels and bleach from the kitchen. She dropped the trash can next to the mess, dropping to her knees as she scrubbed the blood and tissue from the hardwood floor. 

"You need help?" Mandy asked, not moving from Ian's side. 

"Nah." Katie shook her head, smiling. "He needs you more than I do." 

Mandy smiled back, curling her arm around Ian's shoulder and pulling him against her side. "Your brother is going to be fine." she whispered. "Wolves are a sturdy bunch. It'll take more than a flimsy arrow from the fucking Order to stop 'em." 

Ian nodded, blinking back tears. Lip would be okay.

He had to be....

Ian's not sure how long he sat there, letting Mandy hold him as Katie wiped his brother's blood from the floor, but soon, Iggy and Mickey were making their way back down the stairs, and Mickey was holding his hand out for Ian to take. 

Ian glanced up at him, a tired smile on his face as he reached out, intertwining their fingers. 

Mickey lifted him from the floor easily, pulling Ian to his side. Mandy moved toward Katie without thought, and the women wrapped their bloody arms around each other, heedless of the mess. The sun was well up at this point, shining through the windows and illuminating the space in a strange yellow glow that did not fit the mood at all. 

"Is he okay?" Ian asked, his eyes flicking upstairs before fixing back on Mickey. 

Mickey nodded, smiling. "We tucked him in, gave him a shot of morphine, he'll sleep like a baby ." 

"What the hell are you doing with morphine?" Ian asked, shaking his head with a smile. 

"After everything that happened tonight, your only question is about my supply of drugs?" Mickey chuckled. Ian just shrugged, giving Mickey a small smile of his own. 

"Now what?" Ian asked quietly, his eyes flicking from Mickey to the girls standing nearby, to Iggy looming on the staircase. They were all a mess, covered in Lip's blood and dirt. It was a morbid scene, and Ian's stomach flipped again. 

"First, we all clean up." Mickey nodded, locking eyes with Ian. "Then once your brother is awake again, we fucking run."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one may be shorter than usual, but it's kinda a waylay between two points, so please forgive my brevity.
> 
> *note* i have obviously never pulled an arrow from a human body. google is good for all kinds of instructions. i'd skip the pictures, if i were you, however....


	8. More than just blood and sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An attempt to retreat and regroup takes a detour when tempers flare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not sure how i feel about this one, but here it is anyway....

Ian's not sure how long he's slept, but when he wakes up, the curtains in the room are drawn back, the sun shining brightly, causing a hot red glow to sting behind his eyes. Ian groans, throwing a hand over his face as he curls toward the other side of the bed, where Mickey should be.

The bed, however, is cold and empty on Mickey's side. Ian blinks his eyes open, glancing around the room. It's so bright, it hurts. He pinches his eyes shut again as he slowly sits up, rubbing his sore eyes tiredly. 

He cried a lot last night. 

Shit, last night...

Ian throws his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet hitting the chilly wood as he glances around the room for his clothes. He looks around the room, noticing for the first time since waking that all the drawers are pulled out and the wardrobe is open. There is an open suitcase on the window seat, half full of unfolded clothes. 

He glances at a clock above the closet door, perplexed to find he's slept well past one in the afternoon. 

Ian quickly made his way to the bathroom, surprised to find those drawers and shelves were empty too. He found his pill bottles sitting on the vanity. He dispensed one from each bottle, tossing them back with water from the tap before wandering back to the bedroom, depositing the bottles on the bed, since he had no idea where else to put them.

"Mick?" he calls out, pulling his t shirt back over his head. He crouches down, grabbing his sweats off the floor and sliding them up his hips. When he gets no response from Mickey, he wanders into the hallway. " Hello? Where is everyone?" Ian's hit with an odd pang of anxiety, nervous for a moment that everyone has left without him. It's a preposterous thought, but Ian's brain has never worked the way it's supposed to.

Ian can hear noise coming from Mandy's room at the other end of the hall. He sighs in relief as he makes his way toward the sound, his bare feet tingling on the cold hardwood. 

Mandy's door is open, and the two girls are flitting about the room, tossing garments into open suitcases. 

Mandy looks up when she hears Ian's footsteps in the doorway. "Good morning." she smiles, crossing the room and pulling a surprised Ian to her chest. "Didja get any sleep?" she asks, patting down his bedhead affectionately. 

"Um, I guess." Ian replies, stepping back. A confused expression twists his face and Mandy smiles again. 

"Morning, Ian." Katie calls brightly over her shoulder, holding up a grey sweater before folding it and placing it carefully in a hot pink suitcase. 

"Hey Kate." Ian replies warily, still feeling foggy and confused this morning. 

Where's Mickey? Where's Lip? Where are they all planning to go, now that the sun is up?

"Where is everyone?" Ian asks as Mandy releases him, grabbing up some random jewelry and dropping it into an open case on the nightstand. 

"Getting ready for the trip." Mandy replies distractedly, her eyes on Katie. "They're around, don't worry." 

Mandy motions for Ian to sit on her bed. He crosses the room, sitting gingerly on the bed. The quilts are floral, bursts of red and purple blooms scattered across the fabric. It seems much too feminine for Mandy, but what does Ian know? This is the first time Ian's been in Mandy's room. It looks much like the rest of the house. No personal touches to speak of, no family photos or knickknacks. The entirety of the Milkovich manor gives Ian the feeling of staying in an upscale bed and breakfast. 

He wonders if they keep it that way on purpose. A blank slate, with no indication of who lives there. Or are they just so far removed from who they are, they don't know anymore? How long can you live on the run, going from place to place, never making any real connections, never putting down any true roots? 

Ian is pulled out of his head when the mattress dips as Mandy flops down next to him. She lays her head on his shoulder, much like she did last night. Ian's brow furrows, and he leans back the slightest bit, giving Mandy a curious look. 

He may have been too overwhelmed to address her oddly affectionate behavior last night, but he's clearheaded now. And something feels off. 

"Mandy, why are you being so nice to me?" Ian asks quietly, not looking at Mandy as he speaks. Instead he watches Katie wander around the room quietly. Katie cast Ian a reassuring smile before turning her back on him to toss some lacy looking lady clothes in the open suitcase on the floor. 

Mandy chuckles, leaning back to look Ian in the eyes. "I can understand why you'd ask me that." she smiles at Ian again before falling back against the bed, casting her eyes up toward the intricately plastered ceiling. Ian lets himself fall back too, and soon he is laying next to Mandy, his eyes also trained on the oddly designed ceiling. It was beautiful, endless swirls of white plaster, creating what almost looked like a mandala above them. 

"You know, Ian, it's been me and my brothers against the world since the day I was born." Mandy says, surprising Ian. Ian glances over at her, but her eyes have not shifted from the ceiling. She totally ignores Katie, moving around the room and out into the hallway as she continues to pack their bags for the upcoming trip. "Our father was a monster, as a man as well as an Upir. Living with him was hell on earth. His death was a blessing indeed. But after he was gone, we were even more reliant on each other, more insulated in our own world. We've never had anyone else we could ever count on. No one else we ever let into our circle. Kate is the obvious exception, but even she is not truly a part of our family." Mandy sighs, turning on her side to face Ian. Ian glanced over, watching Mandy's face as she spoke. "I care about her a lot, but it's a dead end street. I think you know why." she gave Ian a meaningful glance before training her eyes on the ceiling once more. "So, as I was saying, it's been just the three of us for the longest time now. Mickey and Iggy are my whole life. No one comes between us, no one is more important that us, the bond we share as siblings, and as an Upir clan. We are bonded through much more than blood. So I hope you would understand how you and your brother's unexpected arrival in our lives would take me by somewhat of a surprise." 

Ian nodded, sighing. He's just as shocked as everyone else by this turn of events. He never in his wildest dreams or darkest nightmares thought he'd find himself in the situation he's in right now. 

He's scared, and still very confused, but he trusts Mickey, and he knows that the Milkovich kids are the only ones who can help him save his brother. Lip's safety is the most important thing right now. 

So yes, Ian gets it. He understand why Mandy would be wary of Ian and his brother. Afraid that the brothers Gallagher would upset the delicate balance Mandy and her brothers had managed to cobble together in the past thirty years. Ian can't imagine what it would feel like to be on the run, alone and scared for his entire life. Always looking over his shoulder, always assuming death was looming just out of sight. 

He's felt that way, when he was in the throws of his manic psychosis. Like there are always eyes on him, like he is always one mistake away from his own undoing. 

He can't imagine living his life knowing it was all true, and not just some concoction of his sick mind. 

That has to be terrifying. 

"All that being said," Mandy interrupted Ian's spiraling thoughts. "I know this is what we must do. Mickey has made his choice, and as I just said, we stick together. If you are now his, your are also now ours." she smiled sadly at him, as if the finality of the moment was really sinking in. She's still not positive this connection to Ian is all Mickey thinks it is. Fated Mates, the thought is preposterous. But the idea of bonding to a human is not so unheard of, even if it's never been a practice the Milkovich clan subscribes to. The sad fact of the matter is Mickey's newly formed bond with this admittedly luminous human has predicated a series of events Mandy had hoped would never come to be. 

The fight with the Order was finally coming. There would be no more running. 

"I'm sorry." Ian said sincerely, turning on his side so he could look at Mandy, who was now looking back at him. Her eyes were soft, no trace of last night's vitriol in her expression. "We never meant for this to happen." 

"And that's the point, isn't it?" Mandy replied, her eyes now fixed on Katie, who was packing a small bag in the bathroom across the hall. "None of this is your fault. You didn't ask for this. You didn't pursue my brother, try to weasel your way into his good graces. You are not trying to get him to turn you, like so many men before you have, including that asshole cop." she sneered, rolling her eyes.

"Lucas?" Ian asked, curious. He hadn't thought about the cop since the last time he'd seen him. There had been too much going on to spend any time worrying about Mickey's cop. 

"Yeah." Mandy replied, locking eyes with Ian. "Most people only have two agendas when they learn our true nature. Destroy us or try to join us. Lucas falls into the second category. He does a lot for us, don't get me wrong. He's been an asset to the family for quite some time, but it's no secret what he hopes to gain from this. He is not some benevolent supernatural philanthropist. He's an opportunist. I don't get that impression from you."

"No." Ian shook his head vehemently. "All I want is my brother safe. That's all I've ever wanted. And I'm sorry that it's caused you so much drama. I never wanted that." 

"I know that, and I apologize for insinuating otherwise. I just get very protective over what little family I have left. Especially where the Order is concerned. I can't begin to explain to you how scary it has been, running for our lives from this cult. And I think I'm within my rights to get a little upset. The Order has been out of our lives for decades now, and you two fall into our laps and suddenly we are being hunted again? Can you see why I'd be concerned?" 

"Yeah." Ian nodded sadly. "I'm sorry." 

"Stop apologizing." Mandy chastised playfully. "I'm the one apologizing right now. Give a girl a break. I am trying to say that you are right, none of this is your fault, or your brother's. Just like I didn't choose my fate, or Mickey's or Iggy's. None of us were given a choice, it just is what it is." 

"But this is not your fight." Ian persisted, glancing up when Katie came back into the room, toiletry bag dangling from her left hand. She smiled at them, dropping the bag next to the other on the floor under the window. 

"I'm making coffee, you guys want?" she interrupted quietly. 

"Sure babe, thanks. Ian, coffee?" Mandy asked. Ian nodded, watching as Katie once again made her way into the hallway. 

"It's not your fight." Ian repeated, feeling fresh guilt pool in his gut as he considered how much he and Lip had interrupted this family's life. They'd be struggling for so long, and here come the Gallagher brothers, to fuck shit up even more. 

It all felt terribly unfair. 

"It is our fight. That's what you're not understanding. " Mandy replied, laying her hand on Ian's forearm. Ian looked down at her hand on his arm, before glancing up and locking eyes with her. She was striking, that's for sure. Perfect pale skin, full pink lips. Deep, dark blue eyes that penetrated Ian to his very core. She smiled at him, squeezing his arm gently. "My brother has made a decision. To protect you and your family. He is bonded to you, feels a responsibility to you. I can guess why, but I don't think you need me to tell you anything." 

"Are you talking about the Pull?" Ian whispered, eyes wide. He's not sure why he's so surprised Mandy would bring it up. He wonders if Mickey has talked to her about it. 

Where is Mickey anyway? 

"Do you believe in the Pull, Ian?" Mandy asked, instead of answering Ian's question. Ian was caught off guard by Mandy's question. 

Did he believe? 

Ian thought back on the short time he's been in the Milkovich orbit. All the odd thoughts and feelings he's had. The vivid dreams of Mickey and himself, twined together in more ways than the physical. He thinks about that strange stirring he feels in his chest whenever Mickey is near. It's so unlike any feeling he's ever had, for any other man. It goes beyond sex, romance or crushing. It goes beyond all of that and more. It's like he's been waiting his whole life, just for Mickey. Like all the missing pieces fall into place when he looks into Mickey's eyes. Like all the bad shit that ever happened to him is okay now, because it led him here, to Mickey. 

Ian glanced over at Mickey's sister, taking in the earnest curiosity in her gaze. 

"Yeah." he nodded minutely. "Yeah, I think I do. Why, do you?" 

Mandy gave him a sad smile, nodding. "I am much more open to the possibility now than I was before I crossed paths with you. Y'know, I suppose it's kind of silly for someone like me to dismiss the existence of the Pull. Like, I am a supernatural parasite, stuck in a state of suspended animation, sustained by the blood of humans. I've seen werewolves and zombies. Witches and demons. I've fought off priests wielding swords dipped in the blood of blessed virgins. Nothing should be outside the realm of possibility to me." she shot Ian a rueful grin before continuing. "But I could never wrap my head around the idea of the Pull. Or fucking Fated Mates. The concept that two people could be drawn together by outside forces seemed preposterous to me." she glanced up when Katie wandered back into the room, coffee cups balanced in her hands. 

Ian sat up, taking his cup with a nod of thanks. He sipped the hot beverage, waiting for Mandy to continue. 

"But now, that just seems silly. I mean, I can't even explain my own existence. How I am alive, yet not. How I haven't aged in decades. That in and of itself defies logic. Who am I to say that you and my brother are not fated by some force beyond my comprehension? I am still not sure I'm entirely convinced you and my brother are Fated, but who am I to dismiss it outright? Stranger things certainly happen every day." 

Ian nodded, unsure of what to say. The concept was still overwhelming for him. It suddenly felt like a lot of pressure. 

Fated. Meant to be. Anointed by some all-powerful force outside of Ian's understanding. Ian's not even sure he believes in God. Ian's family may be Irish Catholic, but they have never been a devout family. Ian hasn't even been in a church since Carl's baptism. 

But now he's rethinking all his beliefs. If there are things like vampires and demons, does that mean that there is a devil? And if there's a devil, there must be a god, right? 

"There is so much I don't understand." Ian sighed, feeling overwhelmed. "Is it true, then? About vampires being damned? Does that mean you guys are damned?" Ian asked, horrified. 

Mandy shook her head with a giggle. "No. I don't think so. Just because Upirs are outside the natural circle of life, doesn't mean we are spawn of Satan or anything. I'm not even sure I believe in God. The supernatural is not synonymous with spiritual, Ian. Think of it like this; back in the day, the church thought that mental illness was a sign of demon possession. Like, they couldn't believe that it could be a brain chemistry issue, it had to be the work of the Dark Prince. But now, it's common knowledge that it is a physiological issue, not a spiritual one. I think that things like Upirsm and zombies are just a phenomena that can't be explained by science yet. Demons, angels, who can say if they are really locked in an endless battle for our immortal souls? What if they are just another form of energy? What if they are just outside our realm of current understanding? Like ghosts." 

"You believe in ghosts?" Ian asked, perplexed. 

Mandy chucked, finding endlessly amusing that after all she had just said, Ian was hung up on ghosts of all things. "I believe in everything until proven otherwise." Mandy nodded. "So why should the Pull be any different? I am witnessing the connection forming between you and my brother with my own eyes. Who am I to deny the possibility that it could be fate?" 

Ian smiled, his mind getting stuck on one certain point Mandy had made. He was caught on what Mandy had said about mental illness being confused with possession. He can't imagine what that must have been like. If he'd been born a hundred years ago, he may have been burned as a witch. Or he could have been murdered by priests during a misguided exorcism. 

"Ian, are you okay?" Mandy asked, taking in his ashen face and furrowed brow. 

Ian gave her a small smile, nodding. "Yeah, I just go off on these fucked up tangents in my head sometimes." he replied sheepishly. 

"Well, it's a lot to take in." Mandy conceded, sipping her coffee. "And it's not like we don't have enough to worry about as it is. Adding this Fated Mate shit to the mix probably doesn't help." 

"Then you should shut the fuck up about it, Mands." Mickey sighed, making his way into the room. 

Ian smiled when he saw him. Mickey was already dressed for the day. He looked downright edible in a tight white thermal and dark wash jeans. Mickey crossed the room quickly, stopping right in front of Ian. Ian spread his legs so Mickey could stand between them, sighing when Mickey started running his fingers through his messy red hair. 

The moment they touched, that fire sparked between them. Ian sighed, closing his eyes. Mickey smiled down at him, feeling that warm surge of energy flowing through him.

Mandy scoffed, rolling her eyes as she jumped off the bed, hip-checking her brother on her way over to her open suitcase. 

"We're going to have to talk about this shit, Mick." Mandy said over her shoulder. "If not now, soon." 

Mickey pinned his sister's back with a glare before turning much softer eyes on Ian. "Yeah, we do need to talk about it. But not now. Once we get to the cabin, we'll go over it all." he tipped Ian's head back with the fingers still twisted in his hair. "You gotta pack, we're heading out soon." 

Ian gave Mickey a quizzical look. "Where's Lip? We're leaving right now?" 

"What about 'we fucking run' do you not understand?" Mickey asked, a rueful grin on his pink lips. "It's not safe here, Ian. I wasn't fucking around. Your brother is already ready, downstairs with Iggy. They're packing the car with the essentials." 

"Essentials?" Ian repeated, confused.

"Yeah. Booze, guns, first aid supplies. The essentials." Mickey replied, totally straight-faced. He ran his hand down the side of Ian's face before cupping his jaw. He tipped Ian's head back, leaning down to press their lips together. 

Ian melted into the kiss, opening up for Mickey's tongue with a quiet sigh. 

"C'mon." Mickey said, pulling away and moving toward the door again." There are a shit of brand new clothes in Iggy's room. Mandy buys him new shit all the time, but he wears the same two outfits year after year. Go over there and pack some shit, whatever you want, take it. I put a bag on his bed. We leave in thirty." and with that he was gone again, leaving Ian with more questions than he had when he woke up. 

"Where are we going?" Ian asked Mandy, who had finally finished packing and was moving her massive suitcase toward the hallway. 

"The cabin." Mandy said over her shoulder, leaving Ian reeling on the bed. 

 

***

 

The drive was long. Three hours from the house to Sullivan, which is where the cabin was. The car was quiet. No radio, no talking. Just the hum of the engine and the sound of the tires whipping along the pavement as Mickey sped down the highway. 

The whole crew had piled into one of the largest cars in the garage. The 1966 Jeep Wagoneer was full to capacity with people and baggage. Mickey was driving, with Ian in the passenger seat, floating in and out of consciousness no matter how hard he tried to keep his eyes open. 

Mandy and Katie were wrapped up in each other in the back seat. Mandy on the far right, her head resting on the glass, her arm around her lover. Katie's head was resting on Mandy's shoulder, her eyes closed, her hand resting on her stomach. Lip was on the far left, his head tilted back, hand resting protectively on his wrapped wound, eyes closed. Poor Iggy was crammed in the back among the bags and boxes. Mickey could hear him grumbling under his breath, but he ignored it, choosing to focus on the road instead of his brother's whining. 

Mickey had a lot on his mind. There were so many unanswered questions, so many loose ends. There was so much about this situation that made zero sense at all. 

He wished they didn't have to leave so suddenly. He'd really wanted to talk to Luke before he took off. The cop was still running leads on the fleet of mystery SUVs that always seemed right around the corner. He had yet to come up with anything concrete, and Mickey didn't like the idea of leaving shit open ended. 

He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The Order was acting so out of character, Mickey was starting to consider the possibility that perhaps it wasn't the Order he knew at all. 

It had all the trappings of the Order. This group followed all the Order's protocols. Hell, even the weaponry was the same. But the way they operated was different. Lip has survived two attempts on his life now. And even though Mickey would like to take credit for that, he knows it's due to the Oder's sloppiness. 

The Order has never been sloppy. Or impetuous. They certainly don't leave witnesses or question civilians like they did with Ian's little brother. They have always kept to the shadows, intent on not drawing attention to themselves or their 'holy' mission. 

Something is not right. And the sooner Mickey can figure that out, the sooner he can end this shit. He makes a mental note to call Lucas as soon as they were settled in the cabin. He better have gotten something figured out. Anything would be better than the hapless flailing they were doing now. They were twisting in the wind, consistently two steps behind the Order, or whoever was impersonating them. 

Mickey huffed out an irritated breath, running his fingers through his hair before clamping his hand down on the wheel again. 

This is not like him. He's always on top of shit. The Order hasn't gotten over on him in a long ass time. Memories of his brother lying bleeding in the street try to infiltrate his mind, but he pushes it down. 

It's just that the attacks feel so similar. Mickey had even examined the arrow they pulled from Lip, and the runes carved along the handmade shaft were identical to the ones he's been pulling out of family members for decades. How could an impostor group have that information? The Order guarded their secrets well, and their spells even better. 

It had to be them.

Mickey just doesn't understand how the Order could have flown under the radar for so long, or why they would even want to. The Order may have been a clandestine death squad, but they had never been quiet in the supernatural community. They may have kept their existence secret to the public, but they wanted word of their attacks and assassinations to make the rounds though the underground networks Mickey's family was a part of. 

The Milkovich children may stick to themselves, but they know people. Well, not people per-say. They stay in contact with other Upir clans, are on good terms with witches and warlocks. And even though they've detested Wolves until quite recently, Mickey is aware of all the Packs in the tri-state area, even if only to avoid them. 

So if the Order had been around at all in the past ten years, doing what they do so efficiently, Mickey would have known. 

Something's not right. 

And Mickey has to figure it out before they can make their next move. 

First thing's first, though. He needs to get them safely hidden away in the cabin. 

 

***

 

The cabin was bigger than Ian anticipated. When you hear the word 'cabin', a tiny one room shack in the middle of a desolate woodland comes to mind. That was not the case at all with the Milkovich cabin. 

Ian wonders, yet again, where the Milkovichs acquired all these properties. 

The house was set in the middle of a sprawling field. Up a long gravel driveway, set in a small valley between a copse of trees and a crystal clear lake. 

Ian's eyes widened as Mickey threw the Jeep in park and killed the engine. Ian followed the rest of the group out of the car as they started unloading the bags from the hatch. 

The cabin was more of a house. A large A frame with a massive concrete patio surrounded by a tall metal fence. Beyond the patio was a large yard with a stone fire pit in the center, surrounded by Adirondack chairs and wooden benches. 

There was a covered porch running along the south side of the house, and a balcony on the second floor, overlooking the back yard. The house was gorgeous, and Ian hadn't even seen the inside yet. 

"C'mon, quit ogling the house and grab some of those bags." Mickey laughed, nudging Ian with his elbow so he could get to the baggage in the back of the jeep. 

Ian huffed, tearing his eyes away from the cabin and grabbing one of the overstuffed bags. 

He followed Mickey up the small path and onto the patio and to a large set of french doors. Mickey pulled a set of keys from his coat pocket, unlocking the deadbolt and leading the small group into the cabin. 

The interior of the space was bright and open. The southern wall was was made entirely of glass, allowing the sunlight to permeate the space. Ian followed the group through the doors and into the open living space. On the left was the living area. Couches set up in a semi-circle around a wide coffee table. A giant entertainment center was pushed up against the far wall, with a flat screen TV in the center of it. The shelves of the unit were filled with DVDs and CDs, even some old records, as well as knickknacks and photos of the property in ornate frames. The entertainment center was flanked by a pair of giant speakers. Tucked into the corner by yet another large window was a potbelly wood stove, a short stack of seasoned logs laying nearby.

The other side of the room was dominated by the kitchen. The cabinetry was the same color as the wood walls, blending seamlessly and making the space look even bigger. A white marble island took up the center of the space, surrounded by sleek black bar stools. 

Ian's eyes traveled the space, catching a long hallway off the kitchen and a wooden stairwell trailing up the far wall. parallel to the staircase was dining area which is filled with a long wooden table surrounded by chairs. Ian cranes his head, noticing the stairs go both ways, up and down. 

Mickey catches him looking, giving him a small smile. "Upstairs is the loft, where I usually sleep. Down that hall is the bathroom and the game room. Down the stairs are the other bedrooms and the second bathroom." 

"Jesus." Ian says, wide-eyed. "This place is a lot bigger than I anticipated." 

"No kidding." Lip agrees, tossing his bag on the floor with a wince, his hand moving to press against his wrapped leg. 

"Lip, sit down." Ian said, moving toward his brother. Lip rolls his eyes, waving his brother off. He moves toward the couch anyway, dropping down on it heavily. 

Ian smirks, picking up his brother's abandoned bag and glancing back to Mickey. "So where can I put Lip's shit?" 

Before Mickey could answer, Mandy and Katie bounded in, followed by a haggard looking Iggy. 

"You look like shit." Mickey laughed, taking in his brother's appearance. 

"Yeah, well hours stuffed in the trunk of a car coupled with no feeding with do that to a guy." Iggy snapped irritably. "I'm taking the car. I need to fucking feed." with that he grabbed his bag and stormed off toward the bedroom. 

Mickey rolled his eyes, laughing at the sound of his brother stumbling down the stairs. 

"Iggy! We need to talk about this shit!" Mickey bellowed after him. 

"After I feed, fucknut!" Iggy hollered back. He was back in an instant, snatching the keys off the island and heading out the way he came moments earlier. 

Mickey huffed, turning toward the rest of the group. "Okay, I guess we're gonna settle in first." He turned toward Lip, pointing toward the staircase. "You can put your shit in room at the end of the hall. I'm guessing Iggy's shit's already down there, so make yourself at home or whatever." 

Lip rolled his eyes, but said nothing as he heaved himself off the couch and lurched toward the stairs. 

"Thanks, Mick." Ian nodded, moving to help his brother as they followed the girls down the stairs to the rooms. Mandy and Katie took the first room on the left. Ian peaked in, seeing a small but cozy room with a double bed and a small chest of drawers. 

The next room was the bathroom, tiled all in white, with a pedestal sink and claw foot soaking tub. 

The only room on the right was to be shared by Iggy and Lip. It was the largest room on the floor, with two double beds and a chest of drawers. The space was nice, but dark due to the fact that there were no windows. 

One of the beds already had Iggy's bag on it, so Lip wandered over to the empty one, fluffing the pillow a bit with a closed fist. 

"You okay?" Ian asked tentatively, watching his brother limping around the small space. Lip shot him a smirk over his shoulder as he wriggled out of his jacket. 

"Yeah, man." Lip nodded, turning to to face his brother. "I'm just gonna lay down for a minute." 

"Okay." Ian replied, unsure. 

"Ian, I'm fine. I'll be upstairs when Mickey's ready to go over his battle plans. Go, I'm okay, promise." 

Ian squeezed Lip shoulder, giving him a small smile before dropping his brother's bag on the floor next to the bed. "Sweet dreams." Ian called over his shoulder, leaving Lip to unpack and making his way back up the stairs. 

The common area was now empty, everyone gone off to their rooms to unpack. 

"Mick?" Ian called out, glancing around the space for his own bag. 

"Upstairs." Mickey called back. A small smile split Ian's lips as he made his way toward the stairs that wound up the side of the room. 

The loft area is massive, spanning the entire space of the back of the house. Ian cast his eyes around the area, surprised to find so much crammed into the second floor. 

The ceiling was sloped on both sides, but it didn't detract from the spaciousness. Tucked along the left side was the bed. The bed itself was massive, with fluffy pillows and a plaid quilt. The headboard was rustic, natural wood twisting around itself delicately. Next to the bed was a dresser and a wardrobe. Along the other side of the room was a small leather love seat and coffee table, facing the far wall, and the sliding glass door that dominated the space. Ian dropped his bag on the bed, making his way over to the door. He slid it open with a small smile, stepping onto the deck with a gasp. The small balcony overlooked the entire back yard. Beyond the garage he could see the lake, and the forest beyond that. 

The property was gorgeous. There was no other word to describe it. Ian was again taken aback by the Milkovichs, and their unexplained wealth. 

"Ya like it? I know, it's pretty rustic." Mickey said, placing his bag next to Ian's and sliding up behind him. He wrapped his arms around Ian's thin waist, resting his chin on his shoulder so they could both gaze out onto the yard. 

"Rustic?" Ian laughed, turning in Mickey's arms. "This is your idea of rustic?" 

"It's not the house." Mickey shrugged with a smile. 

"Mick, you've been to my house. This right here..." Ian waved his hand around the loft space. "Is like the fucking Ritz." 

Mickey chuckled, pulling away and grabbing Ian's wrist. "C'mon, let's get cleaned up. In about an hour or so we are all gonna have to sit down and figure out our next move." 

Mickey spoke the words with confidence, but inside his mind was spinning. 

The next move. Their next move. Mickey talked a good game, but he honestly had no idea what was happening, or how he was going to stop it. He wasn't even sure if the cabin was safe. 

They'd done well to stay under the radar. Keeping their residences under aliases and using their fake ID's for the bills. So there was no way anyone from the Order, or the church at large could find them. 

That is until Ian's clueless sister led them straight to their door. 

Not that Mickey blames Fiona for them having to run. She has no idea what kind of major shit show she's found herself in. She has no way of knowing the real danger she put herself in by rolling up on Mickey's house like that. 

And now, of course it's Mickey's responsibility to make sure no harm comes to her, or any of Ian's other family. 

It's his job to protect them, as well as his own family, Ian and Lip. Not to mention Katie, who's clearly not going anywhere. And Luke, who is just as much Mickey's problem as anyone else at this point. 

Mickey leads Ian down the stairs and through the living space, dragging him by his wrist until they reach the bathroom, just off the kitchen. 

Ian looks totally spent as Mickey closes the door behind them. Mickey pushes him to sit down on the closed toilet lid before turning toward the jacuzzi tub set in the corner of the bathroom. 

"I thought we were gonna take a shower." Ian mumbled quietly, his eyes flicking toward the large glass shower opposite the tub. 

Mickey just chuckled, shaking his head. "I think a bath would be more relaxing than a shower, don't you? So c'mon. Do you need me to undress you too?" 

Ian rolled his eyes, shooting Mickey a little grin before standing and pulling his shirt over his head. 

Mickey smiles back, stripping quickly before checking the temp of the water and sliding in. The tub is big, big enough for two grown men. And that's a good thing, too, because it's about to have two grown men in it. "C'mon, Gallagher, don't leave me hanging." Mickey smiles, splashing a little water at Ian as he strips his pants, leaving them in a puddle at his feet. 

Ian smiled again, his eyes raking over Mickey's naked form sprawled in the massive basin. His pale thighs floating in the water, his broad chest peaking out just above the waterline. Ian can't get over how perfect he is. He gingerly stepped over the lip of the tub before lowering himself down into the tub in front of Mickey. 

In that moment, as the warm water surrounded his tired body, and Mickey's strong arms wrapped around his middle, his wet chin resting on Ian's shoulder, all that other shit melts away. The stress slides out of his body like the dirt slides off his skin under Mickey's gentle hands. For those few silent moments, there is no Order. No Upris or werewolves. No danger or stress or outside world at all. It's just the two of them, wrapped up in each other, surrounded by warmth and the quiet sound of their shared breathing. 

The energy swirling between them is almost a tangible thing. Mickey feels it so strongly, that delicious longing, radiating between them in exquisite pulses. 

They don't speak. Not while they are resting against each other in the tub, not while Mickey slowly runs a soapy cloth along Ian's tender muscles, not while they work the knots out of each other's hair, flicking suds at each other with silly smiles stretched across their lips. 

It's still silent between them as Mickey's hand slides down Ian's wet chest, along his toned stomach and through the mass of tangle red hair in his groin. 

It's slightly less silent as Mickey's fingers close around Ian's growing erection. Mickey squeezes his free arm around Ian's middle, pulling him tighter against his chest as he slowly works his hand along his shaft. 

Mickey's own hard cock is pressed tightly between their bodies, and the pressure is intoxicating. He rolls his hips slowly against Ian's ass his hand move gently over his dick.

"Uh, oh, fuck." Ian mutters quietly, his body alight with pleasure. Mickey smiles, burying his face in Ian's hair as he slowly works him towards orgasm. 

"Shhh." Mickey whispers against Ian's ear. "It's okay. I've got you. Just let go. Relax. It's okay." 

Ian hums, closing his eyes. He lets his head rest against Mickey's shoulder, closing his eyes as Mickey leads him toward the edge. 

Soon, the room is filled with the sounds of harsh breathing and water sloshing. Mickey's hand moves faster and faster, and soon Ian can feel him rocking against him. 

Ian's not a bottom. He's not submissive, and he doesn't take dick, but laying here, in this bathtub, with Mickey behind him, he wouldn't change a thing. 

Mickey is strong and sure, his movements precise yet gentle. He strokes Ian with a tight fist as he rolls his hips against his ass, his hard cock slipping between Ian's cheeks. Mickey buries his face in Ian's neck, inhaling deeply. His dick strains as Ian's scent permeates his lungs. It's unlike anything Mickey's ever smelled, and it fucks him up in a way he can't explain. His hips are moving on their own accord now, so lost in Ian that he has little control over his body. 

"Mick." Ian whispers, his back arching as he slips closer to the edge. His body is tight, his head swimming with want. He tilts his head to the side, wanting Mickey's mouth on him. It's a strange sensation, but the desire is so strong. His hand flies up, splashing water all over the floor as he tangles his fingers in Mickey's wet hair, pulling his face closer to his exposed throat. 

Mickey hisses, the sudden realization of what Ian wants hitting him. He can feel Ian's desire as if it's his own, a deep need pulsing between them. 

"Ian, I can't. I shouldn't." Mickey mumbles against Ian's skin. He can barely get the words out with how tightly Ian is pressing him to his neck. 

"Please." Ian whines, his hips bucking into Mickey's fist before grinding back on his hard cock. "I need it." Ian's surprised to find he's so desperate for it. That something that was so foreign and scary to him just days ago has morphed into this aching desire. 

Mickey is powerless against Ian. The realization should not be such a shock, after everything that has happened, but it still surprises him when the notion hits. He finds himself unable to deny the red head, even when he knows he should. 

Mickey sighs quietly against Ian's skin before baring his teeth. His hand moves smoothly along Ian's shaft as he sinks his teeth into Ian's neck. 

The sharp sting of Mickey's teeth breaking his skin elicits a low moan from Ian. That's all it takes to have him coming. His back arches as his orgasm rips through his body. He feels like he's on fire. Like he's fucking flying. It feels like it goes on for forever, his body wracked with pleasure as his lover rocks against his ass, lips suctioned to his jugular vein.

Mickey feels like he's on another plane. Everything with Ian feels transcendental, and feeding is no different. He's vaguely aware that Ian is coming as he loses himself in the sensation. Mickey's hips rock incessantly against Ian's round ass as he takes his fill. Once he feels Ian's body go lax against his, he rips his lips away from his throat, thrusting twice more against him before he stills with a groan and comes between their bodies. 

Ian is breathing hard, trembling a little. Mickey pulls him tighter against his body, licking his wound gently to collect the last of the blood. 

"We should probably jump in the shower, rinse this shit off." Mickey muttered, glancing at the now pink water around them. 

"Go figure." Ian chuckled tiredly. "Took a bath and ended up dirtier than before." 

Mickey laughed, shaking his head. "You are an insufferable dork." 

Ian just smiled, feeling too warm and sated to muster a response. 

 

***

 

After they are showered and dressed in sweats and t shirts, the boys make their way back to the living area, where everyone else is already seated around the room, silently staring off into the distance. Lip is perched on the widow seat, arms crossed over his chest, his face pinched into a permanent scowl. Mandy and Katie are seated together in the over sized chair, speaking in hushed whispers. Iggy, back from his excursion, sits at the far end of the sofa, picking his nails distractedly. 

There is a tension in the room that is unfortunately becoming the norm. This little group was brought together through outside circumstances none of them asked for, and now they are forced into this alliance while still not trusting each other, or even liking each other that much. 

That distrust is clear to Mickey as he takes a seat on the far love seat, Ian nearly landing on top of him in his desire to be close. Mickey can see it in the casual disdain on his brother's face as he glances over at them. Iggy doesn't want to be here, doesn't want anything to do with the Gallaghers or the Order or the trouble that comes with both. He came because Mickey asked him to, and the only thing that matters to Iggy is his family. That's why he fed off the first schmuck he came across, selling cucumbers on the roadside, and turned right around and came back. If he weren't so devoted to his brother, he could have fed off some sexy honey at the bar, instead of some grampa who's blood tasted more like saline solution than the thick human nectar he's accustomed to. 

Mickey can also see it in his sister's eyes. She's sitting stiffly next to Katie, waiting for her brother to get on with it. Her eyes are hard, her posture rigid. Her lips are twitching, like it is taking all her self control to not just go off. Mickey can read her eyes easily. Anger, fear and anxiety are swimming in her blue irises, plain as day. He's surprised she's been able to hold her tongue this long. It probably has something to do with Katie, her hand resting gently on Mandy's thigh, her calming energy passing through their shared connection, soothing Mandy's turbulent mind. 

Mickey doesn't even need to look at Lip to know he's incensed. The other man has been nothing but hostile since he'd woken up after his injury. Mickey stupidly thought he'd be grateful that Mickey had once again saved his life, but Lip had been bitter and angry, finding a way to blame Mickey and his family for the Order's desire to eradicate him.

Mickey finds that line of thinking preposterous. The Order was onto Lip since his turn. It's much more likely that the Order was trailing the wolf that attacked Lip, and stumbled upon the newborn werewolf that way. 

But there's no reasoning with Lip. He's stubborn and angry, and looking for someone to blame. And since the elusive Order is not available, Mickey will have to do. He understands Lip's frustration, but the attitude is getting a little old. 

"Alright, Master Milkovich." Lips spat, bringing his beer to his lips with a sneer. "You've assembled your minions, what's the master plan?" 

Mickey rolled his eyes, pleased that his sister had set out a round of beers for everyone. Even if it was hard for his kind to catch a buzz, he was glad for the distraction. He leaned forward, grabbing two bottles. He handed on to Ian, ignoring the smirk on his sister's face at his chivalry.

Mickey chose to ignore Lip's snarky tone, as well as his shitty attitude, choosing instead to focus on the matter at hand. Lip was going through a lot, and Mickey wasn't looking to pick a fight anyway.

"Well, before we talk about forming any kind of plan, I think we need to consider what we know so far." Mickey said, taking a pull off his beer as he cast his eye around the room. "Ian and I were talking, and I think we may have missed an important point." 

"What point?" Mandy asked, her fingers curling around Katie's thigh. "What are you talking about?" 

"What have we been saying since the start of all this shit?" Mickey asked, not bothering to wait before a reply before speaking again. "We have been saying that the whole situation feels off. Like the Order is slipping, that something doesn't fit with the organization that we've known our whole lives. We've been wracking our brains, reading files and running around like fucking maniacs, all on the assumption that this is the same old Order, playing by the same old rules. But I'm not sure that's what's going on at all." 

"What?" Iggy balked, shaking his head. "Mick, it's the Order. We saw the arrow that we pulled out of this prick." He threw a thumb in Lip's direction, earning himself a middle finger from the elder Gallagher. "You trying to say that there's another religious cult out there, impersonating the Order? That makes no fucking sense." 

"None of this shit makes sense, Igg. That's what I'm fucking saying." Mickey replied. He was having a hard time articulating his thoughts. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before he gazed back toward his brother. "All I'm saying is something's off. We've been scouring records and running down leads, and we have yet to find a single living member of the original Order. Katie has been running herself ragged chasing down old contacts, all to no avail. Luke's been running plates and suspect descriptions through all the CPD databases, and still coming up empty. If it were the Order, there would be some kind of paper trail. They've never been the type of group to lurk in the shadows. Their ultimate purpose may be a secret, but they've never hidden. They were once a respected religious order, to the outside world. And they used that cover accomplish their goals, destroying our kind." 

"So, what then?" Katie asked, leaning forward on her elbows. "You think it's some kind of off-shoot of the original Order? Or some kind of rebirth?" her face was pinched tight, the stress clearly visible on her fair features. "I wish I had more recent contracts. If it were safe, I'd call sister Mary. She was always kind to me." 

"You will do no such thing." Mandy replied, pulling Katie back and wrapping her arm around her. "You are no more safe from those zealots than we are. You stole from them. Secret information that they will kill for." Mandy's voice was high, her face tight with anxiety. "The Order would kill you in cold blood to retrieve those files, and I'll be damned if I let you walk into a trap on the off chance an old acquaintance might have pertinent information." 

Katie gave Mandy a small smile, nodding. "I know, I just wish there was more I could do." 

"You've done plenty." Mickey interjected. "You've done more than most people would do, Kate. There's no reason for you to put yourself in any more danger. Besides, I don't think Sister Mary, or anyone else at the convent would have any new information for us. Not if the Order has been disbanded, as we suspect." Mickey pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, his brow furrowed. He sighed, shaking his head. He really didn't want to do this, but he seems to be out of options. "I have one contact I can call." he finally muttered. " A priest. I think he'll know more than any of the sisters." 

"A priest?" Lip balked, cocking his head to the side. He dropped his beer on the window sill before leaning back to pull his cigarettes out of his pocket. He winced, his wound pulling with the motion.

"Lip, you're bleeding." Ian said, eyes wide as he stared at the blood soaking into his brother's khaki shorts.

"It's nothing, doesn't even hurt." Lip waved him off. He lifted his pant leg, pulling the bandage back gingerly so his brother could inspect the wound. 

Ian was surprised to find that what had been a massive, gaping hole the night before, was now a slim, scabbed-over cut. There was a small trickle of blood seeping from the wide end of the laceration, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it was a mere twelve hours ago. 

"What the fuck?" Ian said, leaning forward to get a better look. It made no sense. Lip had been grievously wounded, lost so much blood, and now the only evidence left was a minuscule cut. 

"Werewolves heal fast." Mandy said, answering a question Ian hadn't even thought to ask. "It's one of their adaptations, supernatural evolution. Similar to our own kind." 

Lip rolled his eyes, lighting his cigarette and falling back against the window. "I'm nothing like you people." 

Ian groaned, running his fingers through his hair before resting his head in his hand. His brother was in such a mood lately. Ian understands his frustration, but it would be nice if he didn't take it out on the very people who were trying to save his life. 

"Anyway, can we get back on track, please?" Mandy said, shooting a glare at Lip. No love lost there. "What priest are you talking about? Someone affiliated with the Order? I thought we ran all those leads down and came up empty. They're all dead or retired to Rome." 

"No, he's not affiliated with the Order. You know him, Father Samuel." Mickey said lowly, rubbing his upper lip with the back of his thumb. Ian watched his face, immediately noticing the change in his demeanor. Mickey looked shy, almost embarrassed.  


"Sam???" Mandy laughed, shaking her head. "I can't believe that giant fairy is still wearing the collar. I'd figured that pedophile boy's club would have figured him out by now." 

"Mandy, really?" Katie sighed, clearly pressed by Mandy's crude words. 

"What?" Mandy replied, smirking. "Samuel has got to be the most effeminate queer I've ever met. I'm surprised they even let him take his vows." 

"What Sam does in his free time is irrelevant." Mickey scolded his sister testily. "What matters is that he knows people and is trusted within the church. If there is some kind of off to books resurgence of the Order, or some new supernatural extermination squad, Sam will have heard something. He's like the clergy's version of a gossip queen. Frock-wearing busybody is what he is." Mickey laughed, shaking his head. 

Ian couldn't help but notice the affection in Mickey's voice when he spoke of this priest. This apparently gay priest. This apparently gay priest that could somehow help them. Ian knew the jealousy bubbling in his gut was irrational. Just like the jealousy he felt toward that cop, Lucas. It made sense that Mickey would have men in his life. It wasn't really a romantic jealousy, anyway. Not entirely. 

Ian was upset that these men could do something he couldn't. They could help fight this battle. Lucas was out there right now, figuring out who's been stalking him and his brother. He's doing the work to end this, while Ian sits on his ass, like a princess in a tower, waiting for rescue. 

And now this new guy. Father Samuel. A gay priest, who Mickey is clearly fond of. A man fighting behind enemy lines, all the while assisting Mickey and his family for reasons Ian can't even begin to guess. Ian may not know this priest, but he does know it takes balls to do something like that. To commit your life to a faith that doesn't accept you as you were born, then go against that same institution for the sake of others. 

Actions like that require bravery. Conviction and faith and dedication. Or a fair amount of stupidity. 

Regardless, this priest can do things Ian can not, and that irritates Ian. 

He can feel his mood souring. He feels that old feeling creeping up on him again. That useless, helpless emptiness. He feels crippled with his own ineffectuality. He can't do a damn thing to help. He's got no connections like Lucas or this priest. He's got no way to help his brother or protect his family. He's just tagging along for the ride, twiddling his damn thumbs while everyone around him scrambles to save the day.

"Ian?" Lip's irate voice pulls him out of his head. He must have zoned out there for a minute, missing a big chunk of the conversation while he was drowning in his self-doubt and jealousy. He glanced up, noticing the entire room was watching him. 

"What?" Ian asked, taking in his brother's dark expression. He looks really pissed. 

"I've been calling your name for like two minutes straight." Lip replied, eyebrows raised. "But you're just sitting there, staring off into space, rubbing your fucking neck. Did you pull a muscle or something?" 

Ian blushed, dropping his hand to his lap quickly. He hadn't even noticed he'd been doing that. "No." 

"Well, there's something there." Lip insisted, standing from his seat and striding over to Ian, intent on inspecting Ian's neck for himself. 

"Lip, drop it, I'm fine." Ian insisted with a glare. He glanced around as recognition washed over the rest of the room. Mandy pulled Katie closer as she shot Mickey a wink. Iggy laughed, shaking his head. 

Lip on the other hand was incensed. 

He stood in front of Ian and Mickey, fisting Ian's hair and wrenching his head to the side to get a better look at his neck. 

"Hey, watch it." Mickey warned, his hand shooting out lightning fast. He closed his fingers tightly around Lip's wrist, tearing his hand away.

"Me?" Lip balked, stepping up to Mickey. He was so close, when Mickey stood from the couch they were chest to chest, glaring into each other's eyes. "You're telling ME to watch it? Tell me those aren't fucking fang marks in my brother's neck, you fucking parasite." 

Ian stood as well, shoving his hand between Lip and Mickey, trying to separate them. Iggy had also come closer, placing a restraining hand on Lip's shoulder. 

Lip turned to Ian, his face twisted in an expression of shocked disgust. "Please tell me you are not letting this fucking THING feed off you, Ian. Have you lost your god damn mind?" Lip struggled as Iggy pull him back a few steps, glaring at Mickey the entire time. 

"Lip, it's not that big a deal, and it's really none of your business." Ian said quietly, his fingers mindlessly going back to the small raised bump on his neck. He found he liked touching it. For whatever reason, feeling the tactile evidence of his connection to Mickey soothed his anxiety greatly. 

"None of my business?" Lip repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. "Ian, you are my business. And you wouldn't even be around to fall victim to this monster if it weren't for my condition. I think it's a very big deal that you've allowed yourself to be brainwashed by this fucking bloodsucker into believing you are anything more than a quick fuck and an easy meal." Lip said, finally shaking free of Iggy's hold and closing the distance between himself and Mickey again. Lip shoved Mickey with two hands to his chest, giving the Upir a smug smirk as he stepped to him once more. "You think I'm gonna sit idly by and watch you slowly kill my brother? Suck the life right out of him? I'll rip your fucking throat out with my teeth before I let that shit happen." Lip's voice was low and deadly, his chest heaving with rage. 

"First of all, calm the fuck down." Mickey sighed. He pushed Lip back a few steps with his fingers, shaking his head at Iggy over Lip's shoulder when his brother raised his eyebrows. 

He didn't need Iggy's help, and he certainly didn't think Lip needed a beat down. He understood where Ian's brother was coming from. He knew what it looked like to outside observer. He can see it in his sister's eyes. That mild shock, that barely concealed curiosity, as if she can't believe what Mickey is about to say. Like no matter how real this link between her brother and Ian seems, it's still so incredibly unbelievable to her. He can see it on Iggy's face, his eyes gleaming playfully as he holds Lip back from charging. He can see the knowing, almost sad look in Katie's eyes, her sympathy for Ian evident in her gaze. 

And he can for sure see it in Lip's murderous expression. 

Lip and Iggy think that Mickey is using Ian. They think that he is playing on Ian's emotions to get what he wants from him. They think he's utilizing his special skills to convince Ian that there is more to them than feeding and orgasms.

They think Mickey has mesmerized Ian into becoming his compliant, clueless bed mate, and blood donor.

And his sister and her lover are no better. With their fear that Mickey is so drunk on the Pull, that he can't see the obvious conclusion awaiting him. Ian's destruction. His death, or his undeath... Do they assume Mickey is so selfish that he would put his own pleasure above Ian's safety?

The implication make Mickey instantly irate. 

He's had enough of this bullshit. 

"Okay." he says, taking a slow, unnecessary breath. "I am going to say this shit once. After that, I don't want to hear about it again. We have more important shit to worry about than what's going on between Ian and I. So you fuckers listen up, because I will not repeat myself." 

The room grew quiet, all eyes on Mickey as he stood in the center of the room. His eyes were locked with Lip, even though he was addressing everyone. 

"Ian is not some fuck toy. Ian is not a snack." he caught his sister's eye, saw that knowing glint in her blue irises. They'd spoken on this topic once before. 

If she didn't believe him then, he was going to make sure she did now. 

Mickey had had no intentions of making some grand announcement, but with Lip's little hissy fit, he saw no other option. He had to lay all the cards on the table, so everyone involved knew what was at stake. So everyone knew what Ian was to him, how important his safety and happiness was to Mickey.

"Ian and I are bonded." he said, not taking his eyes off of Lip. He heard Ian gasp, clearly surprised by Mickey's public declaration. "I know we all know what that means." he cast a stern eye along the assembled crowd, eyebrows raised. 

Mickey knows they all know. It's common knowledge for his family, and Katie has sadly had this discussion with Mandy countless times, even though she never hears what she wants to.

And Lip has read all about bonding and mating in his extensive research. The man is incredibly thirsty for knowledge on the Order, Upirism and Lyncanthropy. Anything that could help him connect the dots, see things more clearly. 

So Lip was well aware of what Mickey was saying. It was clear in the set of his jaw, the dark anger in his eyes, and the veins bulging in his neck. 

"No, you're fucking not." Lip's voice was low and deadly, but he made no move to charge Mickey again. He just stood there, seething. "You are nothing to my brother. I won't allow it." 

"Philip..." Mickey sighed. He knew that this is a lot to take in, along with all the other shit they are dealing with (that they should be dealing with right now, instead of dissecting Mickey's private life, but whatever), "I know this is worst case scenario for you. It's not ideal, I will concede to that fact, but it's real, and it's happening. You know as well as I do, it's out of my hands." 

Lip glared at him, throwing his hands up before turning on his heel and stalking back over to the window seat. 

"I believe you." Mandy told her brother, still perplexed at the turn of events. She'd had her suspicions since the very beginning, but had found it hard to believe, even after her discussion with Ian earlier in the day. "As crazy as it sounds, there is clearly a connection between you two." she waved her hand between Ian and Mickey. She turned to Lip, glancing at him with compassion in her eyes. She did feel for him. The situation must be very frightening from Lip's perspective. "I don't know if we are talking Fated Mates, but I do recognize the possibility of my brother being drawn to Ian by the Pull. It is clear to me that they are now bonded, at the very least."

She may have been on the fence before, but that was over. Just the fact that Mickey had made such an announcement put any lingering reservations Mandy had to rest. He'd never say anything, unless he was sure. 

Mickey just glanced at her, relief evident in his eyes, and she knows, her instincts are right. Just by the look in his eyes. Ian was Mickey's. Bonded, for Ian's natural life. The only way the connection would be severed was through death, or transformation. 

Mandy never thought she'd see the day when any of her clan was bonded. She thought they were incapable, be it through upbringing or Upir genetics. With a father like Terry, bonding and mating was never even a consideration. They had the corpses of all their mothers to attest to that fact. 

But now that she's watching it happen, she can admit to herself, that maybe she's been wrong all along. Maybe they all have. 

"What do you mean, it's out of your hands? Just stop." Lip said, completely ignoring Mandy's words as he fumed on the other side of the room. "Stop talking to him, stop fucking him, stop fucking drinking his blood. Just stop. He has nothing to do with this." he cast his eyes toward Ian, who was staring right back. "He's not like us, Mickey. Please, just let him go home to our family. We can protect him there like we protect them. Safe from all of this, and far away from it all." Lip sounded utterly defeated. "Please, I don't want this for him." 

Ian sighed, sitting forward. He appreciates what Lip is trying to do for him, but it's a waste of time. Ian is in this. There is no walking away, no turning back. This is where he needs to be, and this is what he needs to be doing. 

"It's not just him, Lip." Ian says slowly. "Mick's not the only one who feels this. That's what he means by 'bonded'. You've read the texts, you know that it is a connection felt by both parties. You know that." 

"Ian, he's a master of mind control. It's what Upirs do." Lip shot back. "He can make you feel whatever he wants you to. It's a trick of the mind. So he can get what he wants from you." 

"Is that what you really think?" Mandy interjected, indignant. "That we are soulless monsters that use mind tricks to keep our bellies and our beds full? If that is how you feel, why are we even helping you? Why don't YOU just leave? We were doing just fine before you came along. All your bring is chaos and danger. We asked for none of this. If you are so disgusted with our kind, there's the door." she stared Lip down, her arm extended toward the door, palm out. 

"Okay, enough." Ian said, standing from the couch. He put his hands out, hoping to placate the tense group. "Lip, I appreciate what you are trying to do. You are looking out for me, like you always have. I get it, and I love you for it. But you've got to chill out." he gave his brother a look, silencing him with his eyes when he opened his mouth to speak again. "I am not a hapless victim here. You've read the same papers I have, you know this connection is not based on blood or sex or anything like that. It's a spiritual connection, that goes beyond what we have the capacity to understand. I don't expect you to be happy about it. But I do expect you to accept it." 

"Ian, I don't want this life for you." Lip pleaded, keeping their eyes locked. "I never wanted this for you. You know it can only end badly." 

Ian gave Lip a sad smile, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter, Lip. The connection is there, and I can't do anything to sever it, nor would I want to." Ian chuckled, shaking his head at the odd situation he's found himself in. "What's done is done. I am willing to take that risk, because it feels right. It feels like something I am meant to do. Be here." he chanced a glance at Mickey, who was looking back at him with such open adoration on his face. Ian felt his own skin flush in return, and he smiled. "I trust Mickey, and I'm not going to stand aside while he and you and everyone else fight this fight. I know that if we all stick together, and fight as one, we will come out on the other side victorious. But we need to put these pointless rivalries and bickering to bed, because there's no way we can fight this fight if we are taking shots at each other the whole time."

Lip sighed, shooting one more glare Mickey's way before deflating completely. "I obviously can't talk you out of this. But I just want my objection to be noted for a later date. When all of this blows up in our faces." he gave Ian an imploring look, before casting a much angrier glance to Mickey. "If you hurt my brother, blood will be spilt. And not in the way you like. You understand me?" 

Mickey chuckled, shaking his head. This overprotective guard dog shit is getting old real quick. "Listen man, I don't need your approval, or your god damn blessing. Your brother is a grown ass man, and I am literally like sixty years older than you. But I'll make you a deal. Anything happens to Ian, that Ian doesn't want, or if Ian gets hurt, me and you can go at it. Straight up blood sport, death match shit, okay? Will that ease your lupine mind? The promise of a fight to the death?" 

Lip glared at Mickey, but nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. "If that's all I can get, I suppose I'll take it." 

Ian relaxed against the back of the couch, a relieved sigh slipping past his lips. He's not totally happy with this armistice between Mickey and Lip, seeing as how it's predicated on assured mutual destruction in the event of his own untimely demise. He hopes it never comes to that.

But with the way things are, who knows...

The conversation moves onto more pertinent topics after that. There was a lot more going on besides Ian and Mickey's star-crossed love affair. 

"We have to figure out how we are going to protect the rest of our family. Work in shifts or something, surveil the house." Lip insisted, dropping another rounds of beers on the table before throwing himself back on the couch. 

"Where did you get that idea? Twilight?" Mickey laughed, shaking his head. "We are not trekking ass down there over and over to take turns standing guard in the shadows. That's what Luke is for." Mickey leaned back, reaching into his pocket to fish out his phone and cigarettes. He placed a cigarette between his lips, lighting it before grabbing his phone and dialing a familiar number. 

He paid no mind to all the eyes on him, certain that this was the best way to handle the situation. 

It rang three times before the line connected. 

"Mick? What the fuck? Where the hell did you go? I went by the house, god damn ghost town." Lucas's concerned voice traveled over the line. 

"Out of town." Mickey replied cryptically. "Listen, you remember that address you found for me? On South Homan?" 

"You mean Ian's house? You can say his name, Mick, he's not like fucking Voldermort." 

"I don't know who the fuck that is." Mickey spat, not in the mood to fuck around. "Yes, Ian's house. Do you know where it is?" 

"Um, duh. Yeah I do. Since I grew up on fucking West 45th Street. I thought you knew I was from there." 

"Why would I know that? We're not best friends." Mickey replied tersely. He's not trying to be rude, but he doesn't have time to bullshit right now. 

"Well, we're kinda friends..." Lucas trailed off. 

"Luke, Luke, man, I don't have time for this shit. I need your help." 

Lucas cleared his throat on the other end of the line instantly aware that something serious was going on. "Sure, Mick, what's up?" 

"I need you and your brothers to keep an eye on Ian and Lip's house. I know it's asking a lot, but it's not just for me. There are young kids over there. Innocent people." 

"Eh, Mick. No need to explain. I get it. This that same shit? With the SUV?" Lucas's voice was strained, Mickey could tell he was worried. 

"Yeah, it's the SUV." Mickey nodded, waving off Ian when he opened his mouth to speak. 

"I'm sorry I couldn't get anything more on that Mick. The truck's a dead end. Fucking rentals." 

"Luke, it's fine man. I appreciate your help. What I need you to do now is watch the Gallagher house. We're outta town for a bit, but I don't want to leave them vulnerable." 

"Vulnerable to what?" Lucas asked, his voice low. "Mick, what the hell is going on?"

"Luke, trust me, the less you know the better. Too many innocent people got dragged into this shit already. I don't want you and your brothers mixed up in it too. Just watch the house, keep an eye out for that SUV, or one like it. Or a man. White, tall and thin. That's all I've got in the way of a description, but it's better than nothing." 

"Sure, Mick." Lucas laughed. "One of a million black SUVs, and Slenderman. I'll tell Johnny and Sid to get ready for rotating watch. You know I've got you, man." 

"Thanks Luke. I really owe you." Mickey sighed, relaxing the slightest bit. 

"Yeah, Mickey, you really do." Lucas replied quietly. "Owe me, that is." 

"Yeah, I know." Mickey replied, clearing his throat. "Oh, and Luke, if you see the SUV, or the lanky motherfucker driving it, don't engage him. Just fucking call me, okay?"

"Okay, Mick, sure. Surveillance only. Got it." Lucas replied, the uneasy tone of his voice ringing clear over the line. It was obvious he wanted to say more, but he held his tongue. "I'll get with my brothers and get it done. I'll be in touch." 

"Thanks again, man. I'll talk to you later." 

"Sure, Mick, bye." Lucas replied, and he was gone. 

"What did he say?" Lip asked, pulling a cigarette out of his pack and slipping it between his lips. He lit it, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke up toward the ceiling. 

"He and his brothers are going to watch the house." Mickey replied, casting his eyes up toward the clock. It was getting late.

"What? They're just gonna park outside?" Lip balked. 

"Nah, they're gonna swing by on their patrol. They're cops." 

"All of them?" Katie laughed, shaking her head. 

"Yeah, all three of them. And their dad." Mickey nodded. "But anyway, Luke's gonna get with his brothers, and figure out the best way to keep your family safe and surveilled. I trust him, so you guys don't have anything to worry about, okay?" he turned toward Ian, smiling softly, pleased to find Ian didn't look nearly as tense. 

"What about the other guy? The fruity priest?" Lip asked, standing from his seat and making his way into the kitchen. "I'm making pizza for the few of us here that eat actual food." 

Ian chuckled, shaking his head. His brother is an idiot, but he can't deny that he's hungry.

"I can't call Sam. He doesn't have a cell phone. I'm gonna send him an email. He checks his mail once a day, and when he sees I've been in contact he'll call me back." 

"So I guess that means we've done all we can for today." Katie sighed, laying her head on Mandy's shoulder. 

"Thank fuck." Iggy said, leaning forward to grab the remote. "I've heard more than enough of that bullshit for one day. Can we please just watch a movie or something?" he didn't wait for a reply, turning on the TV and cuing it to some Medieval fantasy film.

The group fell into an easy silence, the stress and anxiety dissipating the slightest bit as the group settled in for some much needed relaxation. 

Ian cuddled into the couch cushions, reaching out and pulling Mickey to his chest. Mickey came easily, tucking himself into Ian's side. He calmed instantly, surrendering to the Pull and the sweet humming of the energy swirling between them. 

Laying there on the couch, listening to the others arguing about the proper way to slay a dragon, Mickey is hit with the gravity of the situation once again. 

He feels like he's over his head. Nothing is making sense, and he's flailing. He has no idea what he's doing. Fuck, he has no idea what's going on at all. 

The only thing he's sure of in that moment is Ian. 

Curled up against Ian, listening to his heartbeat, feeling the Pull pulsing between them, Mickey knows that he was right earlier. 

This thing with Ian is more than blood and sex. It's warmth and peace and bliss. It's profound and it's beautiful. 

It's fucking glorious. 

Mickey will do anything to protect Ian. He will do anything to defend what he's found. 

The desperation of the revelation should be jarring. But it's not. 

Mickey's never been more sure of anything in his life. And there is a peace that comes with being that resolute. 

Now he just needs to figure out what to do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one kind of got away from me. i hope there's not too much going on.


	9. Of Gods & Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some new information is revealed, but does it bring them any closer to the truth?

Mickey is stuck. He's in a state of flux, permanently relegated to a 'hurry up and wait' situation he can't seem to find his way out of.

  
He sighs, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at Ian. The sun had set hours ago, and Mickey had dragged Ian out back to sit by the fire with him. The moon is bright, bathing the yard in a cool white glow even though it's only half full.

  
Ian is seated on the bench next to him. Mere inches separate them, but it feels like too much space. Mickey reaches out, gripping Ian's hand. Ian glances over, lacing their fingers together. His smiling face soothes Mickey's turbulent mind. He lets his eyes slip closed as that familiar feeling swirls in his chest. The Pull, which had confounded Mickey mere weeks ago, now left him positively giddy, drunk on his link to Ian and the pleasure it brought them both. It never ceases to amaze Mickey, how much his life has changed in a matter of weeks.

  
Mickey has been wandering this planet for decades now, existing yet not. He hadn't known it at the time, but his life had been meaningless. Lacking purpose, and devoid of passion.

  
Mickey had lived under the impression that his life would always be that way. Being born into the Milkovich family, being reared under his father's thumb, inheriting this supernatural affliction....Mickey had always toiled under the assumption that he was not worthy of happiness.

  
That's the reason he'd always hated it when Mandy would go on her long, girly tangents about the Pull and Fated Mates. For as long as he can remember, he'd hated those stories. Fairy tales for weak Upirs who could not look in the mirror and face what they were. Monsters. Killers. A metaphysical mistake. A catalyst for pain and death.

  
Mickey had always considered stories of Fated Mates and the Pull to be panaceas for the stark reality of his existence. A balm to sooth the ache of being one of the bad guys. Because why would an evil creature like an Upir be blessed with a soulmate? Why would someone as dark and empty as Mickey be allowed to be allowed to bask in the radiant glory of something as beautiful as a Fated Mate?

  
Especially if that mate was Ian.

  
Mickey has been around a long time. He's traveled the world, meeting interesting people in every port. He's bedded dozens of men, deriving pleasure and nourishment from them all, but never more than that. Actual emotion had been elusive. He'd never felt more than desire in the moment. Lust or thirst, interchangeable most of the time.

  
So the idea of being fated for something greater had been ludicrous. When simple feelings like affection and contentment had be ephemeral his whole life, it was ridiculous to think that something as extraordinary as a Fated Mate would ever be part of Mickey's destiny.

  
Just the fact that he's viewing his life through the lens of destiny is a testament to how much Mickey has changed since Ian stumbled into his life. When he's with Ian, he doesn't feel unworthy or evil. He had turned his back on his father's way of life long ago. He no longer took life needlessly. He had shed his violent, malevolent skin the moment his father was buried. But he'd never been able to shake that feeling of worthlessness. No matter how much he changed, or how good he tried to be, he was still a monster. Still Upir.

  
But Ian put things into a whole new perspective. If someone as amazing as Ian could see good in Mickey, then maybe he had changed after all.

  
The thought makes Mickey's dead heart swell.

  
"Mick, you okay?" Ian asked, squeezing his hand gently. Mickey had been staring off into space for a while, and Ian could practically see the thoughts swirling in his head. Even in the low light of the fire, it was clear that Mickey was preoccupied.

  
"Yeah, sorry." Mickey said, tugging on Ian's hand until the other man got the message and stood. Ian grinned down at him as he swung his legs over the bench, straddling Mickey's waist, curling his legs around Mickey's hips. "Got a lot on my mind."

  
"Obviously." Ian sighed, resting their forehead together.

  
They had been at the cabin for a couple of days. Doing nothing but waiting and bickering among themselves. The tone of the arguments had changed, though, much to Mickey's amusement. After Mickey and Lip had sorted out most of their differences, the death glares and threats of violence had morphed into merciless teasing and childish name calling. Lip has made his disapproval of Mickey's relationship with Ian perfectly clear, but he has come to terms with it, and mostly moved on.

  
"So, what did Lucas have to say?" Ian asked, curling his arms around Mickey's shoulders, laying a kiss to his neck. "Should have woken me up when he called."

  
"You were tired, you need all the rest you can get." Mickey replied, tipping his head so Ian could nuzzle closer.

  
"You promised, Mick." Ian countered. "You said we were in this together, that we were gonna fight side by side. Please, you gotta include me in this shit."

  
Mickey sighed, nodding against Ian's neck. "Okay, I'm sorry. I just don't want you to wear yourself out. You and Kate both need to take care of yourselves. The rest of us aren't built the same, we can go for days without food or rest. You need to sleep and eat and all that shit." he didn't comment on the fact that Ian had to be especially careful to maintain his balance. The real possibility of Ian having a bipolar episode scared Mickey to death. He wanted to protect him from the darkest parts of the fight with the Order. He didn't want to do anything to cause Ian pain, or destroy the sanity he works so hard to protect.

  
"I know, and I will, I promise." Ian laughed, touched by Mickey's words. It was strange how that kind of coddling coming from Fiona or Lip would infuriate Ian, but when the words came from Mickey, it made him feel special. Like he was something worth protecting. "So, spill, what did Lucas say?"

  
"Actually, he had some real information this time, if you can believe it."

  
"Really?" Ian gasped, pulling back so he could look into Mickey's eyes. "What is it?"

  
"His brother Sid had been cruising past your house last night. He patrols the neighborhood, so he drove by a handful of times on his last shift. He saw a black Landcruiser parked two houses down. White male, mid twenties in the driver's seat, black hoodie, fair skin. It was dark, so of course that's as far as the description goes."

  
"Mick, none of that information is new." Ian sighed, angry with himself for getting all excited over nothing, and kind of peeved with Mickey for hyping him up for no reason.

  
"Let me finish, asshole." Mickey laughed, digging his fingers into Ian's sides playfully. "Sid got a license plate."

  
"Yeah, and?" Ian asked, growing more confused. "Didn't Lucas have a plate from before? He said it was a rental, a dead end."

  
"Yeah, he did." Mickey nodded, pausing for dramatic effect before smiling. "Lucas has been collecting the plates, but nothing was coming back cuz they were all rentals, but the dumbass didn't think to check the actual rental agreements! That's why that kid will never make detective. His brother took one look at the list of plates, ran them through the DMV database. All the cars were from the same rental place, the Budget Rental on Cermac. So Sid took the list down to the rental agent, and got copies of the rental agreements. Lucas says six of the rented SUVs have the same name on the forms. Same ID, which I'm guessing is fake, but it's a start, right?"

  
Ian grinned, nodding. Excitement was burning in his gut. A lead. A real lead. Finally. "So, you at least have a photo, right? Photocopy of the license?"

  
Mickey smirked back. "See, now you'd make a better detective than Luke."

  
Ian chuckled, digging his fingers into Mickey's ribs. "So, what did he say?"

  
"Not too much, generic name. Michael Smith, I think. He was wearing some kind of disguise, Luke said. Wig, fake beard, glasses. The whole nine yards. Like a shitty spy movie. Luke said Trump's got a better hairpiece than this schmuck. But that means he's going out of his way to alter his appearance, which makes me think he's either well known in Chicago, or maybe on the run from the cops."

  
Ian nodded, trying to process all this information. It wasn't much. And even if it was true, it didn't answer any questions, it only served to confuse him further.

  
"So that's it?" Ian sighed, tipping his head back so he could look at the stars. It always amazed Ian how bright the night sky was without the light pollution of the city. "Mick, I don't know what we are gonna do with vague information like that."

  
"Hold your damn horses." Mickey laughed. "I wasn't done telling you about my afternoon. I was quite busy while you were getting your beauty rest."

  
"Beauty rest, really?" Ian scoffed. "Fuck off."

  
"No, but really, Ian." Mickey said, flexing his fingers on Ian's ass, pulling him tight against his body. "After I talked to Luke, Sam called."

  
Ian stiffened, pulling back to look into Mickey's eyes. The space between them was barely illuminated by the dim firelight, but Ian could clearly see the apprehension in Mickey's eyes.

  
Mickey knew that this shit was a sore spot with Ian. It didn't matter how helpful Sam or Lucas could be in the stand against the Order, all Ian could think about when Lucas or Samuel came up in conversation was their connection to Mickey.

  
Ian didn't want to be a jealous little bitch, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He's never been like this before.

  
But then again, he'd never had Mickey before.

  
"What did he say? Was it any more helpful than Lucas? Cuz I have to be honest, Luke didn't really do shit."

  
"Ian, man, come on. Luke is going out of his way to help us. He's putting his career on the line, running these plates without just cause, running ID's through the state database. And now he's got both his brothers in the mix. You don't have to like him, but could you maybe keep the shitty comments to a minimum?" Mickey gets why Ian would have a certain attitude regarding Lucas, or even Sam. It's a non-issue to Mickey. These men are friends and allies, nothing more. But Ian seems to view it very differently. 

  
"Sure, Mick." Ian agreed quietly. "But don't pretend like he's doing all this shit out of the kindness of his heart. We both know what he's angling for."

  
"Ian." Mickey sighed, pulling away slightly. That didn't set well with Ian, who tightened his grip, pinning Mickey against his chest. "Why he's doing is doesn't matter, it only matters that he's doing it."

  
"But Mick, Mandy says the only reason he ever helps you is so he can rack up good will, so one day you will owe him so much that you'll be compelled to give him what he wants. He wants you to turn him." The idea of Mickey turning Lucas made Ian want to vomit. The notion that Lucas would share something that primal, that intimate with Mickey was unfathomable to Ian.

  
Then they would be connected forever. Lucas would belong to Mickey. Mickey would be his maker.

  
Ian shuddered, surprised by how angry the idea made him. How jealous.

  
"Mandy needs to mind her own god damn business. She doesn't know what the fuck she's talking about."

  
"I think she might." Ian disagreed sadly.

  
Mickey shook his head, picking up on Ian's sour mood instantly.

  
"Ian, please. You don't need to worry about me turning Luke. I've never turned a person, and I don't plan on starting with him. Worse come to worse, I'll just have to wipe his memory and send him on his way."

  
"What?" Ian balked, clearly confused. "What do you mean, wipe his memory? Like give him amnesia?"

  
Mickey chuckled, shaking his head. "No, it's nothing like that. It's kinda like mezmerization, y'know. But instead of making him think or feel certain things, I can make him forget them. It's not like a blanket memory wipe, it's selective."

  
Ian nodded, trying to absorb this new information. It feels like every time he's close to understanding this shit, something new comes up, confusing him further.

  
"So, if Luke is persistent with his desire for you to change him, you'll just make it so he doesn't remember you? And never see him again?"

  
"Yeah, if I have to. Seems like he may not give me much of a choice. Which would really be too bad. He's useful, and I don't hate him."

  
Ian gave Mickey a small smile. He supposes that's the most he can expect from this situation. Ian's not sure how long Mickey has known Lucas, but it's clear that he cares about the cop in some capacity.  


Ian's about ask Mickey about what the priest had to say when lights appear at the end of the driveway. The distinct sound of tires on the gravel driveway has them both on alert and on edge. Ian turns toward the light, jumping off Mickey's lap. Before Ian can react, Mickey is up and striding toward the edge of the yard, Ian hot on his heels.

  
It's not that late, so Ian's not surprised when the front door opens and everyone else is standing in the doorway. Mandy and Katie are standing behind Lip, who has one of their shotguns in his hand. Iggy is on the bottom step, holding a handgun with a scowl on his face.

  
They are obviously not expecting company, so this visitor has everyone wary.

  
"Ian, go to the house." Mickey says, pulling a handgun out of the back of his jeans. How did Ian not know he was packing?

  
"Yeah, that's not happening." Ian shook his head, reaching out to grip the hem of Mickey's shirt. "I want to stay with you."

  
Mickey huffs, but acquiesces, shoving Ian behind him as they make their way over to the car.

  
It's a small car. Ford focus or whatever. The windows are tinted, so Mickey can't see who's inside. He cocks his gun, aiming it at the driver's side window.

  
"What the fuck are you doing on my property?" he shouts, loud enough for the car's occupant to hear him through the closed window.

  
The person doesn't reply at first. They just cut the engine. Mickey takes a single step back, colliding with Ian, who is standing too damn close. The car door swung open and everyone aimed their guns at the mystery driver.

  
A man stepped out of the car, hands up, a wary smile on his lips. "Really, Mickey? Is all this firepower necessary? You know my policy on firearms."

  
Mickey lowers his gun, shocked. What the fuck?

  
"Sam? What the hell are you doing here?"

 

 

***

 

 

When Ian had first heard of Father Samuel, he had pictured a man like Father Pete from St. Ignatius, on the south side. Old, bald white dude with a permanent scowl on his face.

  
That was not the case at all.

  
Samuel was young, for starters. Maybe Iggy's age. He was tall and thin, with wavy dirty blond hair. He was also dressed in street clothes, which surprised Ian for some reason. He's not sure why, but he expected the man to be wearing robes and a collar. It was odd to see him in a pair of loose fitting jeans and Cubs hoodie.

  
Ian can see why Mickey would be attracted to Samuel. He's a good looking guy. Ian wonders how Mickey even met the guy. It's obvious it wasn't at church. Ian's got a million questions, and he's hopeful he might get some answers now that the priest has arrived.

  
Once it was established that Samuel was not a threat, and everyone put their guns away, Mickey doused the fire and led everyone back to the house.

  
Ian was sitting on the couch, with his brother and the girls, while Iggy hovered by the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He was nursing a beer, waiting for Mickey and Sam to return from the basement. Mickey and was helping Sam set up the trundle bed under Iggy's bed. Looks like Sam is going to spend the night.

  
Ian sips his beer slowly, his thoughts all over the place. Why did Samuel drive all the way down here? What news did he have? Was it so personal, so dangerous that he didn't feel safe saying it over the phone?  


Ian sighs, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. Nothing makes any sense, and the more Ian tries to put the pieces together, the more confused he becomes.

  
He still can't believe this is his life now. So much has changed since that fateful camping trip. It's not all bad, though. If not for that wolf attack, Ian never would have met Mickey. And the thought of never meeting Mickey breaks Ian's heart.

  
He's hopeful that Father Samuel will have some real answers for them. Something that will bring them closer to the Order, something that will help them defeat the cult so they can get on with their lives. The idea of being free of all this shit is exhilarating.

  
Ian doesn't know what's going to happen after all this madness is over, but he does know one thing for sure. He's never going to be the same. His entire world view has been altered irrevocably. Fairy tales and horror stories he once dismissed as fiction have been proven true time and again. Ian will never walk the streets again without wondering who among the crowd is part of the supernatural world. How many times has he met them and not known? Werewolves, Upirs, witches. They are everywhere, walking side by side with the clueless masses. Ian feels incredibly naive. Like he lived his whole life in ignorance.

  
Not anymore, though. Now he feels like he knows too much. Like the knowledge he has now has tainted the way he sees the world. Now everyone is a potential predator. Now each person he meets could be one of Them.

  
Ian shakes his head, willing his thoughts to stop spiraling. He takes a sip of his beer before dropping it onto the coffee table so he can grab a cigarette. He lights it and takes a soothing drag, glancing toward the staircase when he hears Mickey on the steps.

  
Mickey walks into the living room, dropping down next to Ian and plucking the cigarette from his fingers. Ian gives him a playful glare, but lets him have the butt.

  
Samuel also enters the room. He looks tired, that's the first thing Ian notices. He's got bags under his eyes and his lips are chapped. His clothes are wrinkled, and it's clear he's been driving for hours. He shakes Iggy's hand with a smile, and Ian is surprised to find genuine affection in Iggy's expression. For some reason, he didn't expect the eldest Milkovich to be on friendly terms with the priest.

  
"Sam, have a seat." Mickey said, motioning toward the empty chair with his beer bottle.

  
Samuel nods, sitting. He takes an offered beer from Mandy's hand as she makes her way back over to Katie. "Katie, Mandy, nice to see you again." Samuel nodded toward the women.

  
Ian eyed the priest, his curiosity burning. How well did he know Mickey's family? How did he know Katie?

  
"Sam, thanks for coming down. But you didn't say you were coming up when we spoke earlier. You were just supposed to FedEx some files" Mickey says, curious.

  
"Don't thank me. This needed to be discussed in person. But first, why don't you introduce me?"

  
"Yeah, sure." Mickey said, blowing smoke toward the ceiling before passing the cigarette back to Ian. "Ian, Lip, this is Father Samuel. Sam, this here is Ian and Philip Gallagher. Lip's the reason I contacted you."

  
"I figured as much." Sam said, giving Lip a small smile. "I'm sorry to hear you've acquired this condition."

  
"Um, thanks." Lip said, unsure of what else to say.

  
"So what's the good word, man?" Iggy asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "We're lost with this shit. Is it the Order? Are they back?" Iggy was always one to cut right to the chase.

  
Samuel sighed, leaning back against the couch. "No, it's not the Order. It can't be. You guys know as well as I do that the Order has been out of commission for years now. I was there when they had their final meeting. The Order is no more."

  
"Then what the fuck is going on?" Mickey asked, feeling desperate. He was certain Sam would know what was going on. He knew everything that happened within the church.

  
"I don't know, Mickey, that's what I'm trying to tell you. None of this makes any sense."

  
"Okay, okay." Lip said, putting a hand up to silence the two men. "Start at the beginning. How were you involved with the Order? How did you meet the Milkovich family? Why do you help them? Doesn't it go against the teachings of the church, to associate with supernatural predators?"

  
Sam nodded, smiling. "Well, yes. The church has a lot of rules I don't follow. Which is why I'm leaving it."

  
"You what?" Mickey balked, turning to face Samuel fully. "Since when?"

  
"Alright, hold on." Sam laughed. "Why don't we do what Lip said and start at the beginning?"

 

 

***

 

  
May, 2016

  
Samuel's life is in shambles. He'd naively thought that once he took his vows and joined the priesthood, he'd be bathed in the love of the Lord all his conflicting feelings would dissipate. He'd believed that if he dedicated his life to the church, completely gave his life to God, he's be released of his burden and he'd be free of the shame and confusion that came with his predilections.

  
That did not happen. Instead, he found himself more adrift than ever. Confusion was the only thing he felt anymore.

  
Samuel had wanted to be a priest for as long as he can remember. He wanted to devote his life to serving God, and helping people. He was devout and faithful and did his best everyday to live up to the teachings of Jesus.

  
The only problem with that was the fact that he was gay. The church is quite clear on their stance on homosexuality. Samuel was taught that his sexuality was a sin. That he was defective, dirty, damaged. A deviant. He was taught that in order to live a righteous life, he had to deny who he was. Push it down, eradicate it. He was born bad, and had to work everyday to change who he was, in order to walk with God.

  
For the longest time, he'd believed them. He knew he was born a sinner, just like everyone else in the world. But this one thing could ruin his whole life. There were no penance for this affliction. No absolution.  


He'd stupidly believed Father Timothy when he'd told him that he could pray away his sexual preferences. But after endless hours on his knees begging God to relieve him of this burden, nothing had changed.

He's still very much gay.

  
Samuel has been struggling to reconcile his sexuality with his faith, sadly finding it impossible to have both.

  
Something had to give.

  
Samuel is becoming disillusioned with the church anyway. How can he devote his life to a faith that sees him as a pervert? How can he serve a church who hates him for who he is? It's not like he'd been engaging in gay sex. Not since he'd taken his vows. He's a priest, he's supposed to be celibate.

  
But it's all a lie anyway. Everything he thought he knew about the church or his brothers is false. He seems to be the only one struggling to keep the tenants of their faith. The only one still resisting the pull of the flesh. That's the whole reason he's walking through Sherman Park at one in the morning. He needed to get as far away from the rectory as he possibly could. Away from the hypocrisy and lies.

  
His feet led him along a familiar path. It may have been years since he's been to this place, but his body remembers the way. His mind is a million miles away, reliving the shocked scene he'd just stumbled across. The one moment that altered his life forever.

  
He'd caught Father William balls deep in Sister Margaret. He wasn't supposed to be in the rectory at all, he'd been sent out for groceries. But he'd forgotten the list, so he'd had to double back.

  
Catching his mentor fucking a nun had pretty much destroyed whatever remained of Sam's faith in the church.

  
If Father Bill was going to cleave to the flesh, why can't Sam? Why should he deny himself if his own teacher is going to indulge?

  
So Samuel had been wandering the city since then, his mind racing. What now? How can he go back there? What is even the point? Is it all lies? Can this all really be part of God's plan?

  
Sam sat down heavily on a wooden bench under a tree. He laid his head in his hands, willing himself to calm down.

  
He can't leave the church. It's his whole life. Where would he go? What would he do? How could God ever forgive a sin as great as turning his back on the church?

  
The church is in the midst of a big shakedown as it is. Ever since Pope Francis was elected, things have been evolving rapidly. There's even talk of disbanding the Order, which would have been unheard of even two years ago. Samuel has been struggling to keep up with it, feeling like he's caught in the midst of a giant storm, unsure if he'll ever be secure in his faith ever again.

  
He's sure what he's doing right now isn't going to help his crisis of faith at all, it will probably make things much worse.

  
But he's stressed out and worried, and this is the only thing he can think of to sooth his disturbed mind.

He's weak, falling back on a crutch he hasn't used in years. But the desire to quiet his thoughts is so strong, and he's tired of struggling. He feels like he's been fighting against the tide for years. His brothers would say he's fighting Satan himself. Samuel had once confessed all of this to Father William, ironically. He told his mentor he was gay, that he was afraid he'd failed God by being unable to temper his deviance. He told him that he'd joined the priesthood hoping to eradicate his affliction. He told him he was afraid that he'd failed, and that he'd be gay forever, even if he never gave in to temptation ever again. And Father Bill had told Sam that he had a demon inside him, warping his mind and making him a faggot. He'd told Samuel that he'd have to fight the rest of his life to keep that demon at bay, if he wanted God's love. And Sam had tried. 

But now he's wondering if he's had it wrong this whole time. Father William clearly can't be trusted....

  
He hears a man sit down on the bench next to him. He sighs quietly in the back of his throat, keeping his face buried in his hands for the time being. He knows how this goes, he's been here plenty of times before in the past. It's risky for a man of his vocation to frequent these types of spots, but now that he knows he's not the only one breaking his vows, he doesn't feel guilty. It's been years since he's been with a man this way, and honestly, God is the last thing on his mind in the moment. That should trouble him, but it doesn't.

  
"Hey." the man says. He's sitting a few inches away from Samuel, but Samuel can smell him like he's on top of him. The man's scent is sweet and intoxicating, drawing Samuel in easily.

  
"Hello." Samuel replies, finally lifting his head and glancing over at the stranger. He's striking. Pale skin with blue eyes and hair so dark it matches the night sky. He's just sitting there, watching Sam with this glint in his eye, like he knows all Sam's secrets.

  
"What are you doing here?" the man asks, taking Sam by surprise.

  
"What are any of us doing here?" Sam replied tiredly. There was only one reason to be in this park at this time of night. His nerves attempt to resurface, but he pushes them down.

  
No turning back now.

"So, you wanna get to it, or what?"

  
The man smiled, standing from the bench and heading toward a group of bushes at the perimeter of the park. Sam stood as well, following him. 

  
Once they were hidden in the brush, they were on each other. The man grabbed Sam by his shirt and pushed him up against a tree, attaching his lips to Sam's neck. Sam groaned lowly, losing himself in the feeling. This guy knew what he was doing. One touch of the man's tongue on his neck had Sam's whole body trembling. Sam's hands came up, resting on the stranger's ass as their hips ground together.

It's been years since Samuel has touched another man this way. It feels oddly like coming home. 

  
"Oh my..." Sam whispered into the night, tilting his head back in pleasure.

  
Sam felt the stranger chuckle against his skin before he pulled back and knelt down in front of him.

  
"What's your name?" Sam asked, tipping his head down to watch the stranger. The man was glancing up at him, rubbing his hands up and down the priest's black slacks.

  
"Why's it matter?" the man asked, smirking up at him. Samuel watched, hypnotized as the man unzipped his pants, pulling out his dick. He kept his eyes locked with the priest's as he slowly jerked him off. "Just relax, okay?"

  
It was like a switch had been flipped. All of Sam's anxieties and misgivings melted away and all he was left with was the bliss bubbling in his stomach and the tight fist wrapped around his dick.

  
He whimpered when the stranger took him in his mouth. The man wasted no time, sucking Sam off with enthusiasm. He bobbed his head, pulling Sam toward his face with a strong grip on his hips. He dragged his lips and tongue along his shaft, leaving Sam a jittery, moaning mess. It was over much too soon, and before Sam could even put his cock away the other man was standing. He grabbed Sam by the shoulders, spinning him around so their positions were switched. The stranger leaned up against the tree, undoing his jeans and pulling his dick out.

  
"You gonna return the favor, or?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

  
Sam nodded, having a hard time keeping up. He was still reeling from his orgasm. It's been so long since he's been with another man, he finds he's irrationally sad he came so quickly. His thoughts are a jumbled mess, but he feels sated and calm. He is hit with the urgent desire to bring this stranger pleasure. He sank to his knees and wasted no time swallowing the man down. He took him deep into his throat, humming when he felt the man's fingers tangling in his hair. He pinched his eyes shut as he hollowed his checks, trying to focus on the sound of the man moaning above him, and not his rambling thoughts. The longer he spent on his knees servicing this man, the fuzzier his brain felt. His mind went blissfully blank, and all his intrusive thoughts were drowned out. He could no longer focus on anything beyond the warmth swirling his his chest and the stranger's taste on his tongue.

  
Soon, the man was rocking into his mouth, pulling his hair tighter and tighter until he stilled and came down Sam's throat.

  
Sam coughed, swaying on his knees once the stranger let go of his hair. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before glancing up at the man.

  
The man offered him a hand, and Sam took it. The guy lifted him off the ground with a smile. Sam smiled back, that loose, quiet feeling flowing through him again.

  
The man leaned up against the tree, crossing his arms over his chest. "Okay, now that that's outta the way, what's your name?"

  
Samuel balked. "Now you wanna know? Why?"

  
The man smirked. "I'm Mickey. And you're a priest."

  
All the blood drained out of Samuel's face. His body was simultaneously hot all over and wracked with chills. He was overwhelmed by a sudden surge of anxiety. How the hell does this man know he's a priest? Is he going to use this tryst to blackmail him?

  
What has he done?

  
Stupid. So stupid.

  
"How do you know that?"

  
"I make a habit of knowing my enemies." the man replied, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it.

  
" Enemy? I am not your enemy." Samuel said quietly. "Are you mine?"

  
"That's up to you." Mickey said, smirking. "Why don't we talk about it? See if we can come to some sort of agreement."

 

 

***

 

 

"You blackmailed him?" Ian balked, glancing between Mickey and Samuel, unsure how he was supposed to feel about what he just heard.

  
"No, no." Samuel, said, shaking his head. "It wasn't like that at all. After we...became acquainted, it was clear to me we wanted the same things, so we became allies of a sort."

  
"The same things? What does that mean?" Lip interjected, leaning forward in his seat.

  
"Well, around this time, when Mickey was making his inquiries about the Order, I was having my crisis of faith. We had a shared problem at the time. The Church, and the Order. I was never part of the Order, not really. I was more of a facilitator. Where as Kate here did their paperwork, I was more of a logistics guy."

  
"Logistics?" Lip echoed, glancing between Katie and Sam.

  
"Yeah." Katie interjected. "Like, I'd get a call about a vampire nest in Debuke. So I'd do the research, get the names, dates, addresses, stuff like that. I'd put together a dossier, all the pertinent information necessary for the Order to complete their mission. Then I'd send it on to a facilitator like Samuel. Even though we never worked for the Order at the same time."

  
"You mean killing people." Lip said. Ian shot him a glare, but he just shrugged. "What? It's what they did. These so called holy men played God themselves, deciding who deserved to live and who didn't."

  
"He's right." Sam sighed dejectedly. "I saw it with my own eyes over and over. Once the church decided a mission was a go, they'd send me all the information, so I gather the tools needed, make the necessary arrangements. I wasn't part of the operations, I strictly worked behind the scenes. I'd make sure the priests had somewhere to sleep while in town, rental cars, money and supplies. Weaponry, ritual tools, documents and contingencies in case things went sideways. I never went on an actual hunt, but I had blood on my hands just the same."

  
"We all did." Katie said sadly.

  
"I'm sorry, but what does this have to do with Mickey? Or what's going on right now?" Lip asked, clearly not interested in the story behind Sam and Katie's involvement with the Order. "None of this shit makes a fucking difference. We need to know what to do now."

  
"I'm sorry." Sam shot Lip an apologetic smile. "I'm getting there, I promise."

  
"Don't worry about Philip." Mickey snarked. "His Wolf has no patience."

  
Lip just scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

  
"Anyway," Sam said, trying to diffuse the obvious tension between his friend and the young wolf. "After that fortuitous meeting in the park, Mickey and I started working together."

  
"It wasn't really fortuitous, though, was it?" Ian asked, unable to stop himself. "Mickey was following you." he cast his eyes from Sam to Mickey. "How did you know? How did you know Samuel was disillusioned with the Church? How did you know you could turn him? Wasn't that a huge risk, revealing yourself to the enemy like that?"

  
"Well, that one's on me." Katie said, surprising Ian. He locked eyes with the girl across the room, waiting for her to elaborate. "I knew of Sam through my old contacts. I had left the church long before Sam even took his vows, but I still have friends there. The thing with the church is that it's kind of like high school, lots of gossip, lots of rumors. And I'd heard through the grapevine that Samuel was growing disillusioned with the work he did for the Order. That he was feeling lost, that his faith was being tested. I'd also heard rumors of his, proclivities. Gay priests are very common, so it wasn't a surprise really. But hearing all that, I knew that perhaps we could turn Sam into an ally in our fight against the Order."

  
Ian watches her talk, and it hits him in that moment, how much older Katie is than the rest of them. Ian hadn't really thought about it all that much. She looks young, vibrant and alive. But if she left the convent in 2001, and recruited Sam from the church in 2016, she had to be at least thirty years old.

  
She didn't look it.

  
Ian shakes his head, trying to focus on the conversation. He needs to take his meds, his mind is getting all fuzzy.

  
"So, do you do this a lot?" Lip asked, thumbing his lip. "Recruit priests who are questioning their faith?"

  
"We used to, yeah." Katie nodded. "Before the Order was disbanded, we were always looking for inside guys to help us out. We could save more lives if we were working both sides of the fence."

  
"So you just gave in?" Lip turned to Sam, eyebrows raised. "A fucking vampire blows you and asks you to turn your back on everything you've ever known, and you just do it?" he turned to Mickey, eyes hard. "You did that thing, didn't you? Fried his brain."

  
Mickey rolled his eyes. "No, I did not fry his brain. It's called mesmerization. It's temporary and it's harmless. You say it like I'm lobotomizing people."

  
"But you did it, right?" Lip persisted. "To get him to tell you what you wanted to know."

  
"That first time, yeah." Mickey conceded, glancing toward Ian before looking back to Lip. "But only that first time. Just long enough for him to hear me out. After we talked, I didn't need to control his thoughts, since we wanted the same things."

  
"And what was that?" Lip asked, voice hard. Ian rolled his eyes. Lip is getting pouty again.

  
"To protect innocent people from the Order." Samuel replied, as if the answer was obvious.

  
Mickey nodded, "Yeah, it wasn't just about me or my family. It was about all the other people in the Order's cross-hairs. Supernatural beings like me or my family, just trying to live quietly. We had to do something to stop them. We had to at least try."

  
"But none of that matters now." Sam interjected. "Because the Order doesn't exist anymore."

  
"That can't be true." Lip huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "We've seen it with our own eyes."

  
"Have you, though?" Sam countered, cocking his head to the side. "Have you seen anyone? A priest? A man in a black robe? I think not, because if you had, you'd be dead."

  
"Not exactly." Lip shrugged. "But Mickey said the arrow they pulled out of me was just like the ones from the Order."

  
"It was." Sam agreed. "Mickey sent me a photo, and it was an Order arrow. I'm certain of it, since I'm the one who made them all. And whereas the church destroyed all the files after the Order was disbanded, they would have kept their weapons. If for nothing more than historical provenance. The church is a bunch of hoarders, surprisingly."

  
"So then it has to be them." Mandy said, fear lacing her voice. A sudden anxiety settled over the room, but Sam only shook his head.

  
"No, it can't be them. That's what I'm trying to tell you guys. The Order was disbanded years ago. The Holy Father himself decreed it. All the documents were destroyed, all the priests were reassigned. The Order doesn't exist anymore."

  
"I call bullshit." Katie said, surprising everyone. All eyes turned toward her, but she was staring down Sam. "There's no way the church would just step away from all of that. They believe they are on a holy mission. There is no way they'd let the supernatural world flourish around them with no oversight."

  
"You're right." Sam agreed, smiling. "You always were smart." Katie waved him off, blushing.

  
"So wait, if it's not the Order, who does the church have hunting in the supernatural world?" Mickey asked, confused. What were they missing? "Who's the new killing squad?"

  
"That's the thing, Mickey. There is no Order, no kill squad. Now, instead, there is the Guild."

  
"The Guild?" Iggy scoffed, dropping down in a chair with a huff. "What the fuck is the Guild?"

  
"It's the church's replacement for the Order. Their mission has changed dramatically, as well as their methods. All the priests from the Order were either retired or reassigned, and the Guild began with a clean slate. Instead of a death squad, it's the church's investigative unit. So, whereas in years past, the Order would kill indiscriminately, motivated by that Old Testament version of justice, the Guild uses a more scientific approach. The study the case, and only ever intervene if there is no other choice. Most of the time, they just observe."

  
"You can't be serious." Mickey replied. There's no way. The church would never just observe, their goal had always been eradication of all supernatural beings.

  
"I am though." Sam nodded solemnly. "Seems that not even the church can live in the dark ages forever. With the rise of psychiatry, modern medicine, as well as quantum physics and other sciences it was inevitable, probably. Add to that metaphysics and energy studies, the church has slowly come to the conclusion that not all supernatural beings are inherently nefarious. They've learned that not all of the unknown is evil by default. They still believe the Devil is very real, and I'm inclined to agree, but they no longer believe that he is behind every supernatural creature. Much like they no longer believe every seizure or psychotic break is precipitated by demonic possession. So they observe, take notes, make judgement calls. More often than not, if the creature in question is not violent or malevolent, the Guild will leave them be. They only ever step in if innocent lives are at risk, or if black magic is involved."

  
"So, wait." Mandy said, sitting forward, her face twisted in confusion. "You're trying to tell me this new Order, this Guild, has files on witches and werewolves and vampires, knows all about them, and where to find them, and they just let them live? How is that possible?"

  
"Think about it like this:" Sam replied, a slow smirk splitting his lips. "Your clan is a perfect example. You think the Guild doesn't know about your family? Were you not hunted by the Order for decades?"

  
Mandy nodded, glancing toward her brothers, who shared the same tense expression.

  
"But you've been in Illinois for years now with no trouble, until very recently. You think you really flew under the radar that whole time? You really think no one from the church knew where to find you? They still watch you. But you pose no threat, so they don't waste resources on you."

  
"They are still watching us?" Mickey asked, voice strained. He thought they'd been so careful. He thought they were safe. With the Order out of the picture, he'd stupidly thought they were no longer under threat of the church.

  
"They are still watching, but you are in no danger." Sam placated, his voice low and soothing. "Your clan doesn't take human life. So the Guild has no issue with you."

  
Mickey shook his head, unable to fathom what Samuel was saying. "That can't be true. The church has seen our kind as evil for centuries. And what about witches? Aren't they supposedly in league with the devil?"

  
"Satanic witches, yes." Sam nodded. "And those witches are still burned. But those new age hippie witches are harmless. Wiccan priestesses. With their sage smoke and essential oils, they pose no threat. At least not to the Guild. The church does not condone bearing false witness, but it is no longer a crime punishable by death. Executing pagan witches merely because they worship other gods would be like executing Muslims, and the church hasn't condoned that since the crusades."

  
Mickey nodded, still finding it hard to believe. He never thought he'd see the day the church softened it's stance on the supernatural.

  
"So, what I'm trying to tell you is this: the church as a whole is well aware of the world you live in. They know you by name, but they are not actively hunting you. Unless you suddenly decide to start killing indiscriminately, the Guild will not come after you."

  
"Okay..." Lip said, running his fingers through his hair. "But if it's not the Order or the Guild or the fucking church, who is it?"

  
"That's the thing." Sam said, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. "When the Order was disbanded by the Holy Father, all the priests were reassigned. Some retired, but most of them were just sent to other parishes. Just went on with their lives like they were never part of the Order at all. Teaching Sunday school and baptizing babies." he scoffed, shaking his head. "But there was a small group of priests who did not take the Pope's new decree well. They were staunch believers in the old ways. No mercy, no survivors. A monster is a monster, evil is evil. All that. The church sent them to a missionary post in the Sri Lanka, hoping some service work and quiet contemplation would bring them back into the fold."

  
"I'm guessing that didn't happen." Ian said quietly, glancing between Mickey and Father Samuel.

  
"Not really." Samuel conceded. "Most of those priests are unaccounted for now. No one seems to know where they went, or what they are up to now. I brought the list, thought it might come in handy. You guys have resources I don't." Sam unzipped his backpack, pulling a folded piece of notebook paper out and passing it to Mickey.

  
Mickey unfolded the paper, quickly scanning the page for any names he might recognize. When he didn't see any, he glanced back up at Sam, eyebrows raised. "Aren't you gonna get into some shit for taking this?"

  
Sam shook his head sadly. "No. I'm not going back."

  
"What?" Mickey balked, dropping the list to the coffee table to give his friend his undivided attention. "You're serious about that?"

  
Sam gave Mickey a tired smile. "Mickey, the whole time we've known each other, I have been struggling to find my place in the church. Honestly, I stayed this long mostly so I could help you and your family. But I have to do what's right for me now." Sam looked away, unable to take all the eyes on him while he spoke of something so intimate. He focused his eyes out the window, watching the trees sway with the breeze in the moonlight. His relationship with Christ was a complex, personal thing. And even though he considers Mickey a good friend, it's still a lot for him to open up in front of so many people about his most personal issues. "I have never doubted my love for God, or God's love for me. It's the church I have lost faith in. My personal sexual preferences aside, the work I did for the Order was enough to solidify my decision to leave. Even if the Order is disbanded, and the killing has stopped, I can not stay in a faith that executed people like common criminals, just because they were different."

  
"But they killed a lot of evil creatures too, correct?" Lip interjected, cocking his head to the side. "I read the files, there were some real monsters in there."

  
"Yeah." Sam agreed. "But if you read all the files, you know there were also many innocent lives lost, due to archaic dogma and blind, misguided faith. It has been that way for centuries, not just with the Order. The church has a long history of persecution and I can no longer be part of it. I am certain this is not the path God has chosen for me."

  
Lip nodded, impressed and confused by the depths of Samuel's faith.

  
"So, after a lot of prayer and soul searching, I've left the church. I'm actually on my way to my new vocation right now. After I leave you guys, I'm heading to Detroit, where I have accepted a job with the Unitarian Universalists. It will be a lot of work to become ordained in a new faith, but I know this is the right move. They are much more welcoming to my kind." he said, shooting Mickey a smirk that was not lost on the rest of the room. "And I am fairly certain they do not have any clandestine death squads or supernatural affiliations at all for that matter." Sam chuckled, shaking his head ruefully. "After all I've seen and done, I think I've earned my retirement."

  
Mickey laughed too, relieved that Samuel had finally seemed to have found some peace. This new vocation could be just what Samuel needed. Mickey wanted that for him.

  
Solace. Freedom.

Samuel has been a conflicted mess the entire time Mickey's known him. Mickey often felt guilty for using Samuel's crisis of faith and personal struggles for his own benefit. He is happy for Sam, even if that means one of his inside lines on the church is being severed. 

  
"So, as my last official act as Father Samuel, I wanted to deliver this list to you, and tell you what I knew about the Order and the Guild. Which is not much, sadly. But it's all I could get." Sam pushed the list into Mickey's hands.

  
"No, Sam, this is great. Thank you." Mickey said, taking the list from his hands. "So, are these real names, or Priest names? Can we trace these?"

  
Sam shook his head. "I'm not sure. Regular priests don't change their names when they become ordained, but priests in orders do, so it could really go either way."

  
Mickey sighed. All this new information, and they were nowhere closer to any god damn answers.

  
"So, wait." Lip said, sitting forward again. "Then who was it, in the woods, the night I was turned? Someone else was there, right? Besides Mickey. Was it the Guild? Or one of these old Order soldiers on that list? And was it one of them who shot me?" as he spoke, Lip's hand moved to his thigh. His fingers traced over his wound as he waited for Samuel to answer him.

  
"It was not the Guild." Sam shook his head. "I made some calls after Mickey contacted me. The entirety of the Guild has been in Latvia for months, dealing with a Satanic cult. Besides, the Guild doesn't use arrows, not anymore. They kill very rarely, and when they do, they use ceremonial knives. So, whoever this was, it was either a convincing impostor, or one of the men on that list."

  
Ian's head was spinning. This was too much. Too much information. Too much danger. Too much unknown. Too much risk.

  
How were they ever supposed to figure this out?

  
"Is there anyone on this list that we should look at first?" Mickey asked, pointing to the list again. "Anyone that stands out? Someone that was unwilling to accept the church's new lax policies on monster hunting? A zealot, or someone who was more interested in killing than doing your god's work?"

  
"Well, that's a tough one." Sam said, rubbing his lower lip with his fingers. " I can't imagine any of the more experienced priests going against the Holy Father in this way. They are old school, and value loyalty to the church over everything. If I had to guess, I'd say this rouge faction would be comprised of younger priests. They are often the most passionate, as well as the most volatile. Priests in the Order were not normal priests, they couldn't be. They had to have that capacity for violence. And the younger ones were always the most willing to throw their morals out the window for the opportunity to get their hands bloody as God's anointed soldiers. I didn't know the last crop of Order recruits as well as I knew the tenured members. There was a class of young priests just coming up when the Order was disbanded. Most of them were unaffected by the news of the Order ending, happy to serve the Lord in any capacity his Holiness saw fit. But there was one seminary student who took the news quite poorly. I don't know his real name, he always went by Father Michael. If I recall correctly, he took his name from the most powerful of God's avenging arc angels. He was passionate about the Order to the point of obsession. Even among the true believers, he was an extremist. He stood apart from the rest of the brothers, with his anger toward the creatures they hunted, and his blood thirst."

  
"Sounds like a fun guy." Iggy said, shaking his head.

  
"This kid scared me, and I've seen a lot." Sam nodded, staring out the window at the dark night sky. "He was quiet, singularly focused on the mission of the Order, forsaking all the church's other teachings in favor of devoting all his time to pursuing and destroying supernatural beings. He's at the top of that list I gave you. I don't have his legal name, unfortunately. But I do have his last church assignment. Father Michael, of St. Ambrose. In Des Moines. If he's still there, and not disappeared like a lot of the former members of the Order."

  
"Okay." Mickey nodded, his mind already planning the next step. "And you have the new assignments for all the old Order priests? I can have Luke look them up, maybe we can track them that way."

  
"Yeah, I think I do. I'll have to check my files." Samuel glanced at his watch before locking eyes with Mickey. "It's late. I'm gonna have to go to bed if I wanna get back on the road first thing in the morning."

  
"Shit, man, I'm sorry." Mickey said, totally shocked by how much time had passed since Sam arrived. It was well after one in the morning.

  
"Not a problem. My new church is not expecting me for a couple more days."

  
"Alright then, we should all probably get some sleep then." Mickey said, moving to stand. "We can go over the rest of this shit in the morning." 

  
"One more thing." Lip interjected, his eyes locked on the priest, who was also standing now. Sam looked tired, swaying on his feet with unfocused eyes. But he nodded, giving Lip a warm smile.

  
"Sure." he said easily.

  
" Sorry if this comes off dickish, but I just don't understand, how you can be so blase about the monsters you used to kill. How can you reconcile what you know from your religion with what you do now? How can you be a man of God, and help people like them?" he pointed toward the Milkovich siblings, before adding quietly. "Or someone like me?" Lip glanced up at the priest imploringly, and Mickey could see the genuine confusion in his eyes. "How do you go from being in league with the Order, to teaming up with the Monster Squad?"

  
Mickey huffed out a wry laugh, but Samuel seemed to take the question very seriously.

  
"Well, like I said, I had many issues with the church, the Order being chief among them. The indiscriminate killing, based on rigid, archaic persecution of beings we don't understand. The brothers didn't even bother to try to understand. That's when I really stopped to think about it... I was confused. Was I all that different from the people I used to hunt? My brothers in the priesthood would have considered me lost soul as well, if they'd known the true me, beyond the rumors. If they had any real proof of my homosexuality, they would have cast me out, turned me away. All because of the way I was born. I can no sooner stop being gay than you can resist your lychanthropy. I was born this way, just as Mickey and his siblings were born into Upirism. Once I started seeing it that way, I felt like the worst kind of hypocrite. That was the beginning of the end for me with the Catholic church." Samuel sighed, running a hand down his face tiredly. "That's why I think the UU church will be a better fit for me. I'm going to run an LGTB youth shelter there, make a real difference. Because we all know what God's real command is."

  
"What's that?" Ian asked, curious.

  
Samuel smiled at Ian, warm and open. Ian could see genuine affection in his eyes, which was odd since they'd just met.

"Leviticus, 19:18 - You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against the sons of your own people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself." Samuel gave Lip another small smile, casting a fond eye toward Ian and Mickey before shrugging. "I think that's pretty clear. The Order was created to eradicate evil, but in my experience, all it ever did was perpetuate more violence. That is not God's wish for any of us, no matter what or who we are. We are commanded by God to love our neighbors as we love ourselves. To focus on what brings us together, not what separates us." 

  
Lip nodded, his brow furrowed as he considered the priest's words.

  
"Okay, well, I'm gonna hit the hay." Sam said, rising from his seat and grabbing his backpack. "I've got to be back on the road before sunrise." Sam waved over his shoulder as he descend the stairs to the basement.

  
After Samuel excused himself, the rest of the group was quick to split up for the night. Lip and Iggy trudged downstairs, quietly discussing the vague, thin leads Samuel had given them. Mandy and Katie followed suit no long after, taking a moment to clean up the mess of empty beer bottles and cups strewn across the coffee table. Ian offered to help, but Kate waved him off with a smile.

  
"Get some rest, Ian. Looks like you need it." she said, gripping his arm and turning him toward the staircase.

  
Ian huffed out a laugh, but didn't respond. She was right, he was dog tired. Ian made his way up the narrow staircase to the loft, Mickey close behind him, his fingers twisted in the fabric of Ian's t shirt.

  
Ian veers off to the bathroom, to take his pills and brush his teeth. Mickey stood by the window, gazing out at the black night sky, smoking a cigarette as his mind spun wildly.

  
Ian slides up behind him, snaking his arms around Mickey's middle. Mickey jumps, startled. He turns in Ian's arms, giving him a playful glare. "Way to sneak up on a dude." he mutters quietly, smiling up at Ian as the other man dips his head down, pressing their lips together in a slow, chaste kiss. Ian hums in the back of his throat as Mickey slips his tongue into his mouth, his hand winding up to grip the back of Ian's neck, grounding both of them.

  
Once they'd made it to the bed, Mickey gripped Ian by the shoulders, turning him so they were face to face.

  
Mickey glanced up at Ian, wishing yet again that he could read his mind. He was desperate to know what Ian was thinking. Hell, he was having a hard time understanding what he himself was thinking.

  
Nothing Sam had said made sense. The Order, gone. Whatever the fuck the Guild is taking it's place. A church that no longer has a 'kill on sight' policy regarding supernatural creatures. Rouge Order members, running rampant all over the globe, doing god knows what.

  
And all that new knowledge only serves to muddy the waters further. They are no closer to knowing who is hunting Lip. Now they aren't even sure anymore if it's the church at all. If not them, who?

  
Jesus fuck. Mickey is so far over his head, he's woefully certain he's not going to be able to pull this off. Someone is going to get hurt. Or someone is going to die.

  
And that will be on Mickey.

  
"Hey." Ian whispers, pulling Mickey out of his head and back into the room. "You okay?" he asks, reaching down to grip the hem of Mickey's shirt. Mickey lifts his arms and Ian strips it from him, before stepping back to pull his own shirt over his head. They leave their pants in a puddle by the bed and crawl under the covers. Once they are situated on the mattress, Ian pulls Mickey to his chest. They face each other, legs tangled. Mickey runs a hand through Ian's hair as they just watch each other for a moment.

  
"So..." Ian started carefully, his eyes darting over Mickey's face. "Father Samuel had a lot to say."

  
"I don't think we have to call him Father anything anymore, y'know, since he's left the church. I'm sure Sam is fine."

  
"Okay fine, Sam." Ian laughed, knocking his forehead against Mickey's. "The point I'm trying to make is that he just dumped a shit ton of new information on us, and I don't know what to do with any of it."

  
Mickey sighed, pulling Ian closer. "Me either. And this is my responsibility. I have to protect you. I have to stop these fucking assholes, whoever they are. Order, Guild, fucking John Wayne Gacy, doesn't matter. I'm gonna end these fuckers, and enjoy every minute of it." Mickey stiffened, worried he'd said to much. He forgets sometimes, how new all this is to Ian. Hearing Mickey speak so casually about cold blooded murder might be a bit of a turn off.

  
But when he chanced a glance up into Ian's eyes, all he saw was a mixture between shock and amusement on his face.

  
"You're kinda amazing." Ian whispered, closing the distance between them once more. Mickey smiled into the kiss, wondering if Ian was legit crazy, thinking he of all people was amazing. "You're willingly putting your own life in danger to protect people you barely know."

  
Mickey rolled his eyes, smiling. "I have a good feeling about you. Gotta do what I can to keep you around." as he spoke the words, the Pull awakened in him, burning through his veins and solidifying in his chest. His body quaked with it, and he pulled Ian just that much closer. Wherever their skin touched, low grade electricity tingled along Mickey's flesh.

  
"You know, Sam's not the only one who can quote the good book." Mickey said. The sudden change of topic had Ian confused, but Mickey continued undeterred. "I'm also well versed in the Bible." he smirks, trailing his hand down Ian's side, resting it on his hip.

  
"Oh yeah?" Ian laughs. "That surprises me for some reason."

  
"Well, you know. Know your enemy and all that." Mickey said, before cocking his head to the side and regarding Ian much more seriously. "But it's not all hell fire and holy vengeance. There's some good shit in there too."

  
"Like what?" Ian whispered, curling his long fingers into the dark hair at the back of Mickey's head.

  
"Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins."

  
Ian leaned back, shocked. That was the last thing he expected to hear from Mickey. "Really?"

  
"Really." Mickey nodded, curling his body tightly around Ian's. "And I feel it more now than I ever did before. Because I feel like my love for you can erase all the bad things I've ever endured, eradicate all the awful deeds I've ever committed. It doesn't make it so it never happened, but if it brought me to you, it was for a reason. And every moment I spend with you takes me further away from that bad shit, and closer to something better. Just loving you makes me a better person. I never thought I'd have that."

  
Ian's mouth was hanging open, he's certain he looks like a simpleton. But he's just so shocked.

  
Did Mickey just?

  
"You love me?" Ian whispered. They hadn't talked about it. They spoken at length about the Pull, about the possibility of them being Fated.

  
But the word love had never come up.

  
Mickey nodded, smiling. He had never been more sure of anything in his life. "I think I've probably loved you since before you were born, if that makes any sense."

  
Ian could feel tears welling in his eyes, his skin breaking out in a hot blush. His whole body was suddenly on fire, thrums of pleasure tingling along his limbs.

  
It was the Pull, it had to be. Mickey's affection for him was a tangible thing, filling the room and Ian's body with electricity.

  
With love.

  
"I love you too." Ian speaks without thinking, but it's true. He knows it like he knows his own name.

  
"Okay then." Mickey grins, his fingers tightening on Ian's hip. He can't believe this shit. Never in a million years did Mickey think he'd find someone like Ian.

  
His instincts to protect Ian overwhelm him once more, that certainty that he'll do whatever it takes to keep him safe. He's going to end this shit. He's going to fix it.

  
Or die trying.

  
Mickey flicked the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. He sought out Ian's warmth on instinct, falling back into his arms easily. The Pull swirled between them, soothing them both.

  
"You know," Ian whispered into the darkness. "Gods and monsters aside, I think this is the best thing that's ever happened to me."

  
Mickey chuckled, pressing his lips to Ian's bare collar bone. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am not very happy with this chapter. i feel like it's all over the place. with the holidays coming, my mind is a mess. so please excuse this if it feels sub par.
> 
> * FYI * i am not catholic. i know very little about the church, and this work is entirely fictitious. in no way am i disparaging the church, or the people who devote their lives to serving their God. it's just a story, and it is not my intent to offend anyone.


	10. The Covenant of Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when things are falling into place, it all falls apart....

"I've got what you've been looking for." 

"Thank fuck. It's about damn time." 

"Well excuse the hell outta me. This isn't my full time job, you know. I have other shit I need to do. Not to mention the fact that this shit is all super flippin' illegal, in case you forgot, you ungrateful prick." 

Luke is pissed. Understandably so. Mickey has been working him like a dog for weeks now, using up any and all good will that had accumulated between them. Lucas is fed up and angry. Mickey gets that. 

But this shit is important, and Mickey can't be bothered to feel bad about using Lucas like this. Mickey is going to use every god damn resource he had to fight this fight. 

It's been two weeks since Sam had dropped his bombs on Mickey. To say that Mickey had been shocked would have been a massive understatement. The fact that the Order priests couldn't be accounted for was worrisome enough. If they couldn't be tracked, they couldn't be stopped. The notion that these men were out there, wandering the world was frightening. Mickey wonders if the church knows where these men are, and are just keeping it secret. It seems that Sam has been out of the inner circle for some time, so his information doesn't hold as much weight as it once did. 

Mickey is also having a hard time believing that this new group, this Guild, is as monster-friendly as Sam implied. Mickey just can't wrap his head around the idea that any group affiliated with the church would just accept his kind as part of the natural order. It sounds wonderful. Too good to be true, obviously. 

So Mickey doesn't know what to do with any of this. He's certain of one thing though. He's not going to let his guard down. He's not going to stop living his life the way he always has because Sam says the church is no longer a threat. 

Better safe than sorry. 

"Mickey! Are you fucking listening to me?" Lucas barks. 

No. No he hadn't been listening. 

"Sorry, what?" 

"I said the documents should be arriving in the next hour or so. Jesus. You need to get more focused, being all scatterbrained is pretty fucking dangerous right now." 

"Yeah, you're right." Mickey agreed, running his fingers through his hair. He's got a lot on his mind, and he's fucking hungry. He hasn't fed in a couple days, and it's starting to affect him. 

"So, gimme a breakdown. What's in these documents?" Mickey tries to get the conversation back on track, not wanting to talk about himself.

"Well, like we thought, these priests who fell off the radar with the church are mostly still around. It seems like a lot of them just got fed up and pulled a runner. I guess it's not as uncommon as you'd think. I have to say, if my boss sent me to some third world country, I'd probably tell them to go fuck themselves too." 

"So the priests from the mission in Sri Lanka are not missing?" 

"Nah." Lucas said. "I mean, a couple of them are dead. Old age, cancer, whatever. One of them got lost in the fucking mountains, believe it or not. Shitty way to go. A few of them left the church all together once they got back to the states. One of them is living in Toledo with a wife. Another is in rehab for booze in Nantucket. It goes on and on like that. So they're not missing, and it doesn't seem like any of them doing a shit ton of international travel like they were years ago. I did send you that one particular file. That guy is the only one who's still in the Midwest full time. So maybe he's where you'd wanna start. He's the only one on that list you gave me that could be the one behind the SUV. I can't find any evidence that any of those other priests are in a three state radius during the dates you gave me. And he matches the limited description we had. White guy, average build. He goes by Father Michael in all the documents I had. No legal name, no photo, no last know address. But, there is a little bit of personal information in there that might help you figure out who he is against the files your priest friend gave you. I tried to find more on the asshole, but he's like a ghost. Or one of those doomsday preppers. Totally off grid." 

"Okay. That's good." Mickey said, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb. Father Michael. That has to be the zealot Sam was talking about. Shit. "Thanks man." 

"No problem." Lucas replied easily. "So, are you finally gonna tell me what this is all about?" he added on after a moment. 

Mickey sighed, not really wanting to get into this again. "No." 

"Mickey, come on man." Lucas said, and Mickey could hear how frustrated he was. "You have me doing all this shit, for months now. At first it's just a weird car, then it's protection detail. Now you have me doing background checks on fucking Catholic priests." Lucas sighs heavily. "This is about what you are, isn't it? These people are trying to kill you. Or they are trying to kill your boyfriend." 

"He's not my boyfriend." Mickey replies automatically. He's not sure how he'd categorize his relationship with Ian, but 'boyfriend' seems like too small a word. 

"Whatever you say, Mick." Lucas sighs. "Does it have to do with the Gallagher brothers? Is that better? This has something to do with the attack in the woods, doesn't it? Something happened to Philip Gallagher, and it has somehow tied him in with your family, and put him in some kind of danger involving the Catholic church. Are they trying to capture him? Kill him? Are you in danger?" Lucas's voice is rising, and Mickey can hear the genuine concern in his voice. 

It seems as though Mickey hasn't kept Lucas in the dark as much as he thought he had. 

He suddenly feels bad for joking with Ian that Luke would never make detective. He's clearly smarter than Mickey gave him credit for. 

"What does it matter, Luke?" Mickey says instead of answering him. "Even if you were right, and I'm saying 'if', what would you do about it? You can't arrest a priest for killing a vampire. You know that, right? You'd end up in the fucking nuthouse if you mention this shit to anyone you work with." 

Mickey heard Lucas sigh again. "Fine. Whatever." he said, voice hard. "That information should be there within the hour." 

"Okay, man. Thanks again. You gonna head down to North Wallace tonight?" Mickey knew it was asking a lot, to ask Luke to sit on the Gallagher house tonight, especially since he seemed so angry about being out of the loop. But Mickey was doing this to protect him. He kind of wishes he could just tell him, but the less people on the stalker's radar the better. Lucas will just have to suck it up.

"Sure, Mickey. Whatever you say." Lucas spat. The line went dead before Mickey could reply, and he sighed. Shit. He'd fucked up somewhere. Lucas was getting more and more testy lately. Nothing Mickey did or said was right, and each of these phone calls ended the same way, with Lucas digging for information Mickey wasn't willing to give, and Lucas hanging up on him in a huff. 

Whatever. Mickey has other shit on his mind right now. 

He grabs his phone and heads out to the yard to wait for the delivery truck. He's hopeful this last file will be the key to finding this elusive priest. The one who seemed to hold the answers. The one who's been in Illinois during the attacks on Lip and the stalking of the Gallagher family.

Just the possibility that they could be close to some actual answers has Mickey irrationally happy. He can't wait to tell Ian. 

He wishes Ian were here right now. He longs for him when he's gone. It feels like he's missing a limb. He closes his eyes, dropping his face into his hands. He quiets his mind, focusing his thoughts on Ian. How he makes Mickey feel, how he feels under Mickey's fingertips. His taste on Mickey tongue. His smile, his laugh, the sound of his voice. 

The feeling starts in his chest, building and pulsing out until it overtakes his entire being. He shakes under the sensation, his whole body trembling until an image pops into his mind's eye. 

Ian, laughing and happy with Lip and Mandy, walking through the forest. He can see it as clearly as if he were there himself. He can see the trees, the grass, the path under his feet. He can feel the sun on his face, smell the wildflowers on the breeze like he's the one standing in the middle of the field. Even though he's sitting in the yard over a mile away. 

Appeased to find that Ian is indeed safe and happy, Mickey breaks the connection. It takes a lot out of him, and since he hasn't fed recently, he feels wiped out by just a few seconds of watching. 

Mickey didn't know much about the Pull or being Fated before he crossed paths with Ian. Even after reading all the literature, Mickey finds a lot of this stuff was not covered in any of the texts. 

For example, it didn't say anything in all of Mickey's extensive reading that Mickey would be able to SEE Ian, even when they were apart. Mickey had discovered this little talent by accident earlier in the week. Mandy had taken Ian and Katie to the grocery store in the center of town. Mickey had been wary of letting Ian and the girls out of his sight, still unsure if they were safe, even out here in the middle of nowhere. 

But he's not a controlling weirdo, and he's not about to tell Ian or his sister or anyone else for that matter that they can't go out on their own. He trusts Mandy to keep them all safe. He trusts that Ian can take care of himself. He's a tough dude, and if this were a fair fight, Mickey would bet on him every time. But the Order has never fought fair. They use shit like stun guns and fucking arrows and syringes full of paralytics. And even if the Order is no more, whoever is stalking Lip uses their tactics, so it's just as dangerous. 

So yeah, Mickey worries when Ian is out of sight. He doesn't think he's being unreasonable, worrying a little bit. And when Ian had been gone shopping a few days ago, and Mickey had found himself vexed by anxiety over Ian's absence, he attempted to soothe himself by imagining Ian's smiling face in his mind. 

It caught him by surprise, that first time. The sensation wasn't unlike the Pull, that warmth, that vibrating pleasure. But this sensation was accompanied by actual visions. 

Mickey was so shocked, he'd almost fallen out of his chair. His eyes flew back open as he flailed to stay upright. What the fuck? 

That had never happened before. 

He'd seen Ian, wandering the isles of the grocery store, a small basket in his hand. He'd been laughing at something, grinning at Mandy as they sauntered past the frozen food isle. 

Mickey had clamped his eyes closed again instantly. He quieted his mind and focused on Ian again. How much he cares for the red head, how perfect Ian is in his eyes. 

The vision returned almost immediately. Ian was standing in the check out line, his wallet in his hand as Mandy and Katie perused magazines behind him. Mickey laughed. He'd told Ian to use the money Mandy had to pay for the groceries. And there he was, using his own money like a true gentleman. 

Mickey hasn't needed to use this new technique since that day. Ian has been close by, and Mickey had had no reason to search for him in his mind's eye. 

But now that Ian's gone on this stupid nature walk, Mickey's anxieties are creeping up again, and this new skill eases his nerves greatly. 

It feels different this time, however. Less clear, less vivid. Mickey wonders idly as he stands and heads toward the house if it has anything to do with the fact that he hasn't fed in the past couple days. Lack of blood effects Mickey in a host of ways. Makes him weaker, less focused, slower. 

He knows that he has to feed soon, but the thought of asking Ian outright feels cheap, and a little sleazy. He doesn't want Ian to think he's using him. The thought alone makes Mickey sick. 

The past few nights have been busy. The time had been spent reviewing the files Samuel had sent them, connecting dots and running down leads. They have founds six more old Order priests, three of which are dead. One is interred in a psychiatric hospital. And the last two are in Cambodia, at a remote mission that doesn't even have electricity. So they are making some progress. And hopefully when this file comes, they will be that much closer to ending this shit. It all keeps coming back to that one loose end. Father Michael. Lucas is still looking into that, but hasn't gotten very far. 

Nevertheless, Lucas has done some good work that Mickey and his crew couldn't do. So he's grateful, even if Luke is being a bit of a bitch at the moment. Mickey knew this was coming, he knew that Lucas would one day want to collect on all the favors he'd done for Mickey. 

A sharp pain rips through Mickey's head and he winces. His hands come up to cradle his skull, just as he hears tires on the driveway. 

He hand stills on the doorknob and looks over. Mandy pulls into the driveway, and Mickey turns on the spot, hopping down the stairs and making his way toward the car. 

Ian is out of the passenger seat and in Mickey's space before Mickey can even make a move for the door handle. The groceries are filling the back seat, almost covering Katie completely. 

"Hey." Ian smiles, blocking Mickey's path to the car. He pulls Mickey into his arms, wrapping him in a tight embrace. "Missed ya." he whispers into Mickey hair before dipping his head down for a kiss. Mickey kisses him back with as much passion at his tired body will allow. Ian's tongue slips into his mouth, and Mickey welcomes it, moving his lips slowly against Ian's. 

Ian pulls back, his brow furrowed. "What's up?" he asks quietly. "Something's wrong." 

Mickey is consistently surprised by how well Ian can read his moods. He's not sure if it's intuition, or the Pull or something more between them. But just having Ian close makes him feel exponentially better. His headache is already going away. 

It should probably worry him that Ian has this effect on him. It's dangerous, to be so attached to a human like this. Pull or not, Fated or not, love or not, Ian is not Mickey's. Not like he'd be if he were Upir also. 

Being drawn to another Upir by the Pull serves a purpose, to bring you your mate. Being Fated to another Upir is the greatest gift of all: immortality with your one true mate. A never ending moment of bliss and peace, with the one being in all the world who is meant only for you. 

But being fated to a human can only end in heartache, unless you turn them. There will be happiness in between, but once your mate dies, which all humans do, the Upir will becomes weak and inconsolable. 

Mickey's been reading the few accounts of such things, and what he'd found had been disconcerting. In one case, the Upir had committed suicide two years after their human mate had died. In the second case, the Upir had gone on a rampage, killing every human he came across until the Order ended him with an ax. 

Neither of those possibilities seem very enticing. And neither does the prospect of turning Ian. Mickey doesn't turn people. And even if he did, he loves Ian too much to do that to him. It would be so selfish. To take Ian's life so Mickey could keep him. 

But Mickey can't stop it, even if he wanted to, which he doesn't. He's already attached. Through fate or love, or both. He and Ian are already connected, and that connection can't be severed. Not by distance, not even by death. 

It's their connection that is soothing Mickey's aching body right now. Just having Ian close is easing the pain. 

"Nothing's wrong. I'm fine." Mickey lies, even as his body shivers through another wave of agony.

"He needs to feed." Mandy supplies most unhelpfully. 

"Shut the fuck up, Mandy." Mickey growls, spinning toward his sister and instantly regretting it when his head swims with a new wave of pain. 

"Mick, is that true?" Ian asks, turning Mickey to face him again, his eye full of concern. 

Ian glances at Mickey, suddenly acutely aware of how different he looks. He's not paler, per say, because there is no way Mickey can get paler than he is, but Ian can see the blue lines of his veins in his face and neck. His face looks sunken in, and his blue eyes are darker then they usually are, looking almost black. 

How did Ian miss this? 

Do Upirs get sick? From lack of blood? 

Mickey rolled his eyes, shooting his sister another glare before glancing up at Ian with a much gentler expression. "It's not a big deal." 

"It is, though." Mandy countered, handing some grocery bags to Katie and watching her walk toward the house before turning back to her brother. "You need to feed, or else you'll get weak, and then you'll be no good to any of us. What would you be able to do if the stalker showed up right now? Not a god damn thing. You'd be useless." with that she stormed into the house. Katie a few steps ahead of her, leaving Ian and Mickey standing in the yard, staring at each other with their hands full of plastic grocery bags. 

"We're gonna go inside and put this shit away, and then we're gonna talk about this." Ian says, leaving no room for argument before making his way into the house too. 

Mickey sighed, ascending the steps himself. When did this become about him?

 

***

 

"Mandy, FedEx is gonna be swinging through with those files in the next hour or so. Can you please sign for them? I'm gonna go lay down for a while." Even as Mickey says the words, if feels foreign to him. He never needs to lay down. He never needs rest or sleep. 

He may be a little worse off than he originally thought. 

His suspicions are confirmed when his sister gapes at him. "What did you say? You need what now?" 

"You fucking heard me." Mickey barks, shoving past his sister and ignoring Lip and Iggy's questioning glances as he storms up the stairs. He doesn't need to look to know that Ian is following him. 

He makes it to the loft and starts stripping immediately. It's the middle of the afternoon, but Mickey feels like he could sleep for days. His body is weak, his movements slow and sluggish. 

He can hear Ian moving behind him. Mickey is so attuned to Ian now, he can almost predict his movements. Shirt comes off first, then socks, followed by pants. Mickey lays on the unmade bed, naked, eyes closed. His head is swimming with vertigo, his body feels like it's on fire. He can't remember the last time he was in this much pain. 

The bed dips as Ian crawls next to Mickey. He curls his body around Mickey's resting his head on his chest. Mickey sighs, relaxing into Ian's energy and the soothing sensation of the Pull tethering them together. 

They lay like that for a while. Ian's heartbeat is loud in Mickey's ears, his skin hot against his body. Mickey can't take much more of this, his body aches for Ian. For Ian, and his blood. Mickey is torn, and he knows he has to do something soon. 

"Mick." Ian's quiet voice interrupts Mickey's spiraling thoughts. 

"Yeah?" 

"We need to talk about what Mandy said." 

Mickey sighs, pinching his eyes shut. He know they need to talk about it, but he doesn't want to. Talking about it makes it real, and Mickey just wants to live in the fantasy a little bit longer. The dream world where Mickey can have Ian as he is, and nothing changes. But apparently that's not to be. 

"You're getting sick." Ian murmurs. "You need to feed. Why didn't you tell me? You know I won't say no." 

Mickey pulls out of Ian's hold, slowly sitting up so he can face him. It takes him too long to move, his body unwilling. Ian sees it, sitting up himself with a worried look on his face. 

"Ian, I don't want you to think I expect you to let me feed from you." he says. It feels like the right place to start, since that is the most pressing issue. "You don't owe me anything, especially not your blood. It's not your responsibility to feed me." 

"Mick, I don't feel beholden to you. I want to give it to you. You have to know that." 

Mickey sighed, giving Ian a small smile. "I know that, Ian." 

"Then what's the problem?" 

"The problem is that every time I feed from you, I take from you. You get weaker. You must feel it. It's not safe for you to be any less than your best self right now, Ian. What if something happens, and you need to protect yourself? I would never forgive myself if something happened to you, and you were unable to defend yourself because I made you weak." 

"I get that." Ian said slowly, scooting closer to Mickey. He took on of his hands, gripping it tightly between his own. "But in your attempt to protect me, you are hurting yourself. You need to be on your A game too, Mick. And I think we both know it's better to have you at a hundred percent than me." Ian gave him a small smile, pulling him closer. He slung his arm around Mickey's shoulder, feeling the other man relax against him. "If you don't want to feed from me, we need to find someone else. Maybe Lucas would be willing to..."

"No." Mickey cut him off, pulling away so he could look into Ian's eyes. Ian was staring at him, confusion evident on his face. "I don't want that." Mickey sighed, coming to a realization he'd been avoiding. "I don't want anyone but you." 

Ian smiled, but Mickey shook his head. "No, that's not good." he insisted. "See, this is what I've been trying to tell you. This is what I wanted to avoid." Mickey could feel the Pull pulsing under his skin, urging him to act. He pushed it down as best he could, focusing on Ian, and what he had to say. 

"Remember when I told you about the Pull? How it could only end one of two ways?" his hand reached out on it's own accord, tangling their fingers together. Mickey had to be touching Ian. He needed that corporal assurance as he spoke these words. 

Ian nodded, his stomach sinking. He knew where this conversation was going. 

"I don't want to kill you, Ian. And I refuse to turn you. I don't want this life for you. But ever time I feed from you, the urge gets stronger. I want to drain you, Ian. I want to drain you and feed you from my body. I want to make you mine, forever." 

Ian's whole body was hot. Mickey's words had the strangest effect on him. His heart started pounding in his chest, his breathing growing fast and erratic. His whole being ached at Mickey's declaration. His body wanted that. To belong to Mickey. Forever. 

Ian wanted that. More than anything. 

"Mick, I don't see why that's a bad thing." Ian said, quietly, suddenly unsure of how Mickey felt for him. He said he loved Ian, and Ian believed him. But what does that mean for someone like Mickey? Has he loved many men before Ian? Has he let them grow old and die, moving on to the next one as if his dead lover never existed? Was Ian not as special as he'd thought. What about the Pull? What about being Fated? Did that mean nothing to Mickey? 

Mickey glanced away, staring instead at their intertwined fingers as he spoke. "Ian, this life is not a good one. After everything I've told you, how could you want that? You would have to leave your family behind. There is no way to stay in contact with them after you are turned. And even if you could, you would have to watch them all grow old and die. Then you would spend the rest of eternity in the shadows. Never making any more real human connections. Your whole existence would be a lie. I don't want that for you. It was selfish of me to even allow it to go this far. The Pull has clouded my judgement, made me weak. I want you so bad, and I love you so much, I let those feelings lead me. When I should have been focusing on the reality of the situation. I can't ever have you, not the way I want to. And feeding from you only makes it worse, makes me more desperate to claim you. But the thought of feeding from anyone else makes me sick. So I'm stuck." 

Ian shook his head, laughing humorlessly. "I love how you've got it all figured out. Like you know what's best and it's up to you to make all these decisions for me. Do you know how that makes me feel?" 

Mickey looked up, confused. Ian was glaring at him with fire in his eyes. "Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to take back control of my life? After I was diagnosed?" 

Mickey shook his head, unsure of what Ian was trying to say. 

"A long fucking time." Ian said, his expression hard. "No one trusted me. No one would let me out of their sight, never mind let me make a decision about my own life. It was like I had been reduced to my diagnosis. Crazy Ian, who can't be left alone with sharp objects, and certainly can't choose how he wants to live." 

"Ian, that's not...." Mickey began, but clammed right up when Ian gave him another glare. Mickey sighed, resigning himself. 

"I know it comes from a good place." Ian said. "I know my family meant well, back then. They wanted to protect me. Look out for me. Keep me safe. I appreciate it now, looking back. Just like I know you are trying to protect me now." 

Mickey nodded. It's true. He does want to protect Ian. 

"But Mick, the difference between now and then is that I'm not psychotic right now. I'm in full control of my faculties. I'm not confused or hallucinating. I am not some helpless victim here. I know what I want. And I want you." 

"Ian, you can't know that." Mickey countered sadly. "You see my life, but you don't really understand it. I have Mandy and Iggy. We are lucky to have that. But Mandy has lost many lovers over the years. People she still cries about to this day. Her heart has been shattered so many times, it's a wonder she has it in her to love at all anymore. And I see the same thing happening with Kate now. It's been like this between them for a long time, and each passing year makes it worse. Think of that happening with your family. Could you leave Fiona and the rest of your family? Even Lip will die someday. Werewolves have longer lifespans than humans, but they do grow old and die. Are you honestly willing to lose everyone you love, give up your whole human existence for an eternity in darkness with me." 

Ian groaned, gripping Mickey by the shoulders and tossing him down onto the bed. Mickey's back hit the comforter and he stared up at Ian, bewildered. Ian crawled over his body, caging him in. 

"I can see we've reached an impasse." Ian muttered quietly. He dipped his head down, kissing Mickey briefly before leaning back to look into his eyes. "How about we table the heavy talk for the moment, and focus on what we can fix right now." 

Mickey nodded, unsure of what Ian was talking about. 

"You need to feed. You don't want to feed from anyone else, and frankly, I don't want that either. I know you're worried about me, but I can handle it. You need to be strong, Mick. You say you want to protect me, but you can't do that if you are weak. So don't fight me on this. Let me help you. Please." 

"But Ian, feeding from you will only make our connection harder to break." Mickey argued feebly. His body was already reacting to Ian's words, the desire to feed becoming overpowering. 

"Mickey." Ian sighed, letting his full weight settle over Mickey's body. "If you think our connection could ever be broken, you are lying to yourself. It's done. We are fated, you said so yourself. And I feel it, too. I feel it so deeply, and it feels right. So just stop, please. Stop trying to protect me from you. I don't want that. We are in this together. Why can't you see that?" 

Ian's words flowed over him, stirring the Pull so powerfully Mickey felt dizzy. He nodded, unable to fight it any longer. 

The could figure out all that other shit later. Right now, Mickey needed Ian. He needed him and he wanted him. And Ian wanted him back, regardless of how dangerous it was for him personally. 

Mickey put all those thoughts out of his head, instead using what little remaining energy he had left to grip Ian by the back of the head and pull him into a kiss. 

The kiss was tame by their standards, Mickey's weakness evident in the way his lips moved sluggishly against Ian's. Ian licked at Mickey's lips until Mickey smiled, allowing Ian to slip his tongue inside. Ian's hand slid down Mickey's side, coming to rest on his hip as he kissed him slowly. 

Too soon for Mickey's liking, Ian pulled back. "Okay, so how do you want to do this?" he asked. Ian realized that Mickey had only fed on him in the heat of the moment. He didn't know how he went about it outside of their passionate exchanges. 

"Lie down." Mickey replied, still wary. He watched as Ian crawled off his body and laid down next to him. He was beautiful, laying there naked, glancing up at Mickey with pure adoration in his green irises. 

Mickey smiled down at him, running his fingers along Ian's shoulder, down his arm. He watched, delighted, as goosebumps popped up along Ian's arms and torso. He'd miss that reaction, if Ian were ever to become like him. 

Mickey allowed himself a moment to wonder what it would be like. If he turned Ian. How much would he change? Would he resent Mickey in a hundred years? Would he wish he'd never met him? 

Mickey admittedly doesn't know much about the long term results of a Fated human/Upir mating. What happens if the human mate is turned? He hadn't allowed himself to look into it. It had felt like an incredibly selfish thing to hope for. He supposes he's going to add that to his never ending list of topics to research, since he's certain Ian is not going to let this go no matter how much Mickey tries to dissuade him. 

Mickey again draws his focus back to Ian. Being hungry makes him scatterbrained. He needs this. He knows he does. 

That fact doesn't make him feel any better, however. He's been desperately trying to keep Ian whole and human. He loves him this way, just as he is. And Mickey fears that every time he feeds from him, he's destroying a little part of what makes Ian who he is. 

It matters little, however. Mickey is hit with the crushing certainty that he's already altered Ian beyond redemption. 

Mickey is still smiling softly down at Ian as he intertwines their fingers. Ian smiles back at him as Mickey lifts his wrist to his mouth. Mickey hesitates, his jaw aching to clamp down. Ian gives him another smile, a nod of his head. With that, Mickey sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of Ian's wrist. 

Ian gasps, but it's not in pain. The moment he feels his skin tear under Mickey's mouth, it's like his whole body explodes in a massive wave of pleasure. His eyes slip closed as he lets himself drown in the sensation. It's unlike the times Mickey's fed on him during sex. There is no physical pleasure to distract him from the feeding, and he finds that this act alone is erotic in it's own right. He's hard. When did that happen? 

Mickey grips Ian's arm tightly, holding it hard against his mouth as he takes his fill. Holy fuck. Was it always this good? Can Ian's blood taste better each time? Is that a thing?

Ian is moaning underneath Mickey, and Mickey can feel his erection pressing against his hip. Mickey is still to weak for sex, but he won't leave Ian wanting. 

His eyes roll back in his head as Ian's lifeblood flows down this throat. He can feel his energy coming back immediately, like the rush of cocaine back when he was human. He feels it like a tangible thing. It starts in his chest, tingling out along his torso and down his limbs. Once he is finally sated, he pulls off with a gasp. He's dizzy, but feels incredible. 

His eyes snap open and there is Ian, laying there watching him with so much reverence Mickey doesn't know what to do with it. 

The Pull radiates between them, pounding like a heartbeat, rocking Mickey to his very core. Looking at Ian, Mickey can tell he feels it too. 

Mickey understands in that moment, that this is all out of his hands. Ian was right, it's not up to him to tell Ian what he does or does not want. Mickey will have to talk this out with Ian, decide what they want to do, going forward. 

Because they are in this together now. They are connected, through the Pull, their love, and now the covenant of blood. It's there, plain as day, and Mickey would be a fool to deny it. 

"That was....different." Ian said quietly. 

"How so?" Mickey asked, pressing his lips to the wound on Ian's wrist. 

"It was incredible, felt so good, I got hard like instantly. That hasn't happened before." 

"Oh yeah?" Mickey smiled, relaxing. His fingers danced along Ian's chest, sliding down his abs to grab his dick. 

"Yeah." Ian sighed, closing his eyes as Mickey's fingers tightened around his dick. "I want you so bad, all the time. But I've never gotten hard just from feeding." 

"It's because our connection is changing." Mickey replied, curling closer to Ian as he jerked him off slowly. "It's becoming stronger. You can feel it changing." Mickey punctuated his words with a tight squeeze around Ian's cock. He didn't even have to try to drape Ian in his energy, it flowed out of him unbidden, soaking into Ian's being, settling deep inside him. 

"I can." Ian groaned. His body went taut, tingly all over. He could feel that now-familiar warmth spreading through his body, turning him into a mess of arousal and ecstasy. "I can feel you." Ian murmured, surrendering to Mickey completely. 

"I sure hope so." Mickey laughed, leaning over to kiss Ian passionately. He licked into Ian's mouth fiercely, his hand working Ian toward release. He spoke without thinking, muttering quietly against Ian's lips. "I want you to feel it. Not just the Pull. Not just my aura. All of it. All of me. How much you mean to me. You're fucking everything to me, Ian." Mickey is uncertain about a lot of things, but his love for Ian is not one of them. 

Ian came like that. With Mickey's lips on his, and Mickey's promises swelling inside his heart. 

 

***

 

Later that night, after Ian and Mickey had spent several hours alternating between sex and feeding, then descended the stairs to find everyone else in the living room, the new documents strewn all over the coffee table, mixed in with the older files Father Samuel had given them. 

"You look better." Mandy commented once Mickey was seated on the couch. Lip glared at him, but Mickey was too happy to let the elder Gallagher get to him. He and Ian may not have worked out all the finer details, but Mickey was secure in the fact that they would figure it out. They had to, there was no other way. 

"I feel better." Mickey replied simply, pulling one of the files onto his lap and pointedly ignoring his sister. 

"You, on the other hand, look like shit." Lip spat at his brother as he entered the room. Ian rolled his eyes, choosing not to reply as he settled himself between Mickey's spread legs on the floor. Sure, he felt a little drained, but it was totally worth it to help Mickey. Besides, Ian would give up a lot more than a bit of blood to keep Mickey healthy. 

The thought would have been worrisome a couple months ago, but the more time Ian spends with Mickey, the more certain he becomes. He wants this. Forever with Mickey. 

Now all he has to do is convince Mickey that turning him is the only reasonable thing to do. 

But he can't worry about that shit right now. Not when there is some shadowy murder group trying to kill them all. 

"Don't worry about me." Ian replied, glaring at his brother. 

"Oh, don't worry." Lip replied sarcastically. "Why didn't I think of that?" 

"Guys, come on." Iggy sighed from his spot across the room. He was seated on the floor in front of the big window, papers strewn out all around him. "Can we drop this tired shit for the night and focus on what matters. We think we have a lead on Father Michael." 

"Yeah?" Mickey asked, suddenly feeling anxious. They were getting closer to the inevitable showdown. With who, Mickey's not even sure anymore. The Order is no more, and the Guild seems unlikely. Could it really be just a group of rogue Priests, going against the Church and the Guild? 

That theory seemed too simplistic for what they'd been dealing with. Mickey's confused, and he hates that feeling. He's used to being in control, one step ahead of anyone that would cause them harm. 

"Yeah." Iggy nodded, glancing down at his file. "Shit, this is the wrong file, who's got the one on Father Michael from Saint Ambrose?" 

"Me." Katie said, gently pushing Mandy aside so she could pick up her file. "Okay, so like Lucas said, there is no identifying information in this file, but there is some basic background that might be helpful." her eyes scanned the page and Mickey could feel his impatience growing. He was about to snap at her to hurry the fuck up when she finally spoke again. 

"So, Father Michael is only twenty three years old. He's from the north side of Chicago, so he's a local boy. Had a younger brother, name redacted, and a married mother and father, names both redacted. He grew up Irish Catholic, but his family wasn't devout. He joined the priesthood on a whim when, get this, his father was killed by a werewolf." 

"That can't be a coincidence." Mandy said, earning herself a smattering of nods from around the room. 

"No, I think we're finally onto something here. He could be the rouge member. If he's got a personal grudge against supernatural beings, he could be operating outside the church." Mickey said, unable to temper his excitement. They were finally getting somewhere. He was going to take great pleasure in destroying this priest. 

Nobody fucks with Mickey's family and lives to tell the tale. 

"So, how do we find him?" Lip asked, unwilling to get swept up in this wave of excitement without a real breakthrough. "Even if it is him, we don't know his real name. Or how to find him." 

The room went silent, no one knowing the answer to that question. 

"That's what I thought." Lip said tiredly. "I'm going out for a smoke." with that he stood and walked out of the room, not sparing the group a glance as he left. 

"Shit." Ian sighed. "I should go check on him." 

Mickey nodded, feeling uneasy. It's ridiculous, of course. Ian can't be within arms reach at all times. It's preposterous to even think that. He just doesn't like the way he feels when Ian is out of his sight. He's not sure if it's because of the inherent danger surrounding them right now, or if he's just so whipped on the ginger that he can't stand to be without him for even the briefest moments. 

Mickey sighs, plucking this Father Michael's file from Katie's fingers. There had to be something here that would help them find this asshole. 

And when they did find him, Mickey was going to tear him apart, bit by bit. 

 

***

 

"You okay?" Ian asked, pulling a lighter out of his pocket so he could light his brother's cigarette and then his own. 

"That's a stupid fucking question, Ian." Lip said, blowing smoke into the night sky. 

"Sorry." Ian muttered, turning away from Lip as he took a drag off his own cigarette. 

Lip sighed, slinging an arm over Ian's shoulder. They sat there, on the steps of the house, smoking silently for a moment. 

"I'm just frustrated." Lip finally spoke. "I feel like we're getting nowhere with this shit. And you are in danger because of me. Well, because of me and your undead boyfriend in there." 

"Lip, I thought we talked about this." Ian groaned. He didn't move away, though. It was comforting, being close to his brother this way. "Mickey isn't ever going to hurt me. You have to trust me." 

"Ian, you and I both know this can only end one of two ways." Lip replied quietly. 

Ian is struck by how much Lip's words mirrored Mickey's from earlier. 

"I do know that." Ian said. "And I accept that. And you're going to have to accept it too. Besides, we have more important things to focus on right now." 

"Ian, there will never be anything more important to me that your safety." 

"Well, what about your safety?" Ian shot back. "You're so worried about what's going on with me and Mick, you're ignoring the fact that someone is trying to kill you. We should be talking about that, not who I love."

"Love?" Lip repeated hollowly. "Oh, Ian. For the love of all that's holy, please tell me you're not serious." 

Ian scoffed, ready for another argument when his phone went off. He sighed, glaring at his brother as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. 

"Shit. Fiona." Ian said, locking eyes with his brother. 

"Well, answer it." Lip replied as Ian let the phone continue to ring. He raised his eyebrows at Ian, clearly confused. 

But Ian wasn't sure he wanted to talk to Fiona right now. The last few times they spoke it was a never ending recycled conversation. She always said the same things, and Ian always gave the same replies. Fiona was worried about Ian and Lip. She was confused about their relationship with the Milkovich siblings, and didn't understand why her brothers had suddenly turned their backs on their lives for these bizarre strangers. They dance around the same topics over and over, but never make any headway. 

"Ian." Lip insisted, his tone irritated. Ian nodded. Couldn't avoid her forever. He swiped his finger across the screen, putting the phone to his ear with a resigned sigh. 

"Hey Fi." 

At first he heard nothing on the other end except shallow breathing. He glanced over at Lip with his eyebrows raised. Had Fiona butt-dialed him during sex? Jesus. 

But just as he was about to laugh it off and hang up, his sister's terrified voice filled his ears. 

"Ian! Ian, don't come! It's not safe! Stay the fuck away..." he rambling was cut off by a blood curdling scream. Ian's eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open in shock.

Lip took one look at Ian's face and jumped up from the step, staring down into his brother's horrified eyes. "Ian, what?" 

Ian just stared back as Fiona's screaming filled his ears for what felt like an eternity. Then, suddenly, her voice trailed off, and was replaced by someone else. 

"Ian Gallagher." the man said. His voice was cold, devoid of any human emotion. "I have your sister, obviously. She's been severely injured, but there is still a chance that she could live. I am going to text you an address momentarily. Meet me there, and bring your filthy beast of a brother. I am willing to trade your lives for hers."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ian responded, feeling a deep wave of nausea rolling through his body. 

"You heard me." the man said. "I know all about you, Ian Gallagher. I know your brother is a disgusting wolf. I know that you have been assisting him in eluding me. I also know all about your demonic lover, and his family of blood suckers. I have no interest in them, for the time being. But if you and Philip do not meet me, I will not only destroy you and your brother, I will kill your entire family, starting with Fiona here." Ian heard a sudden shriek. His sister's painful wailing filled his ears, rocking him to his very core. "And when I'm done with you useless Gallaghers, I will destroy the entire Milkovich clan. Do you understand me?" 

Ian swallowed, his eyes stinging. Lip was staring at him hard, mouthing 'what the fuck.' over and over. 

Ian cleared his throat, shaking his head. "Uh, yeah." 

"Good." the man said in his icy tone. "I am sending the address now. Be there before the sun comes up, or I will slit your sister's throat. Don't tell anyone. Just take your mongrel brother and go. Or Fiona dies." the man's voice was then replaced once more by his sister's anguished screaming. Then the line went dead. 

Ian dropped the phone. It clattered down the steps and landed in the grass as Ian's panic gripped him tightly. 

"Ian, what?" Lip insisted angrily. 

Ian looked up at his brother, whom he's loved his entire life. He'd do anything to protect Lip. He'd die for Lip. 

Now it looks like that might actually happen. 

His mind was spinning. He knew what he had to do. He had to tell Lip, and they had to steal one of Mickey's cars and go wherever this mad man on the phone told them to go. Fiona's life was hanging in the balance. 

He wanted Mickey. He didn't want to do this without Mickey. But he need to protect him, just as much as he needed to protect Fiona. 

Because Fiona might be his blood, but Mickey is too now. He's in his blood, and in his heart. 

So Ian will do what it takes to keep him safe. Whatever it takes. 

"Ian!" Lip barked, his voice stern yet scared. "Man, please. Tell me what the fuck is happening?" 

"It's Fiona." Ian whispered, tears streaming down his face. He locked eyes with his terrified brother. "They have her, Lip. The Order, or whoever. They have Fiona. We need to go." 

"Go where?" Lip asked, just as Ian's phone chimed in the grass. 

"Wherever he says." Ian responded sadly, the gravity of the situation hitting him hard. "And we need to go alone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am SO sorry. i know it's been a minute and that's on me. i was working on my Big Bang fic, then i started on a valentine's day fic, cuz i don't know how to say no, and i seem to have the unbridled desire to push myself beyond my limits and my sanity. 
> 
> we're getting to the meat of the story now, so i hope i haven't lost you guys.


	11. Our time has come....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Lip race to save Fiona from their stalker, unaware that Mickey and his family are hot on their trail....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry this took so long. i am also so sorry it's not as long as it usually is. i've been busy with valentine's fic, as well as the big bang, which took up most of my writing time.

"I think we're going to have to head down to the suburbs and check out this church." Mickey said. "Lady of Perpetual Sorrow. I'm guessing they're the only assholes who will have the priest's real name." he thumbed through the paperwork, looking for the address of the church. 

"I can go with you." Katie offered. "I think we have a better chance of getting information from the church if you have someone who knows how to talk to those priests." she shrugged, considering. "They're pretty tight-lipped, and it might help to have someone who speaks their language." 

"Good, yeah." Mickey agreed, nodding. "So, we'll head down there tomorrow. The faster we get this shit done, the better." Mickey was over this whole ordeal. He thought he left this fight with the church in the past. After the Order was disbanded, Mickey had stupidly thought he could relax, live his life quietly. But now that notion feels premature and naive. Maybe Mickey will never have a simple life. Maybe that kind of life doesn't exist for creatures like him. 

"Who are you taking besides Kate?" Mandy asked. "What should the rest of us be doing in the meantime?" 

Mickey opened his mouth to speak, but the words died on his tongue. He was suddenly overwhelmed by a consuming wave of anxiety. His body went numb, tingling from the top of his skull to the tips of his toes. He couldn't feel his face, couldn't feel anything beyond emptiness in his chest and the fear gripping his heart. His head was swimming, his vision cutting out. He stumbled, reaching out to steady himself on the wall as he tried to regain his composure. 

What the fuck. 

"Mick?" Iggy's voice sounded distant and distorted. Mickey could barely make out the words. Before he could reply, his mind was assaulted with visions. Choppy snippets he could barely comprehend. 

When he surfaced from his episode, he was gripped with intense fear. He pushed off the wall and ran toward the door, his siblings and Katie trailing behind him, exchanging confused looks. 

"Mick!" Mandy yelled, coming to stand behind her brother. Mickey stood on the front porch, his eyes raking the yard and driveway for the Gallagher brothers. "Mick, what is it?" 

"They're fucking gone." Mickey whispered, turning to face his sister with wide eyes. "I saw them in one of the cars. They've taken off." 

Mandy and Katie shared a glance. Iggy scoffed. 

"Fucking seriously?" Iggy balked. "After everything we've done for those assholes, they just took off? Unbelievable." 

"Mick, what do you mean, you can see them? What are you talking about?" Mandy asked, confused. 

"I mean I can fucking see them, Mandy." Mickey spat, irritated. He doesn't have time for this shit. "I can see Ian, when he's not around." 

"Since when?" Iggy asked, cocking his head to the side. 

"A while now." Mickey mumbled, wishing he hadn't brought it up. "I don't know why. And it doesn't matter. What matters is that they took the Cutlass and they're on the highway right now." Mickey closed his eyes, focusing on Ian's energy. It wasn't warm and soothing like it usually was. Ian's energy was dark, drenched in fear and anxiety. It rocked Mickey to his core, but he held onto it. He wasn't going to let Ian slip through his fingers. He focused, pulling Ian's image to the front of his mind. His eyes, his mouth. The way his lips quirked up when he said Mickey's name. 

"They're headed back to Chicago." he decided. "Iggy, go start the Jeep. We're going to find them." 

"Mick, what if Iggy's right? What if they don't want to be found?" Katie asked, following Mickey and Mandy down the driveway. Iggy had run ahead, plucking the keys out of the visor of the Cherokee and starting it.  


"I can't explain it, Kate." Mickey grumbled, feeling overwhelmed. "Ian didn't leave because he wanted to, or because he's trying to get away from us. He's scared. Anxious. Worried. I can fucking FEEL it. I can feel him, and he needs me. So stay here if you want to, but I'm going to find him." 

Katie kept her mouth shut after that, crawling into the back seat and reaching for Mandy immediately. Mandy wrapped her arm protectively around Katie, wary about this trip and what was going to come of it.  


Iggy hopped into the passenger seat, side-eyeing his brother. He can't say he understands what Mickey is doing. This is just so unlike him. Ever since he started up this bullshit with his human lover, Mickey has felt more and more like a stranger. Iggy's been learning about the Pull right along with everyone else during this fiasco, but he can't say he understand that either. If his father was alive, he'd beat them all senseless for even considering something as ridiculous as Fated Mates. 

But there is clearly something going on between Mickey and the red headed Gallagher. Iggy isn't sure he believes it's fate, but watching Mickey use his brain as a GPS to track Ian and Lip, Iggy has to admit, it's looking more plausible by the moment. 

The car is silent as the speed down the dirt roads toward the main juncture. No one tries to speak, and Mickey is glad for it. The silence makes it much easier to focus on Ian's energy. The feeling consumes him, dark and bleak. His hands shake on the wheel, but he clings to the feeling desperately, unwilling to relinquish this connection to his mate. 

His mate. It's the first time he's ever actually thought it. He's known Ian was his, meant to be his by something bigger than him. Something he can't even begin to understand. And no matter how much it scares him, and no matter who or what stands in their way, he is linked to Ian forever. And although Mickey had been conflicted about turning Ian up until this exact moment, Mickey is no longer confused. If he manages to pull this shit off, and they make it out of it whole and unscathed, Mickey is going to turn Ian, claim him as his, and no one will ever be able to touch them ever again. 

Mickey clings to that thought as he takes a wide turn on the dirt road, cutting the wheel hard to avoid a tree on the opposite side of the narrow dirt path. He's got to get to the highway, he can't go fast enough on these stupid mud trails. Fuck these bullshit fucking roads for keeping him from Ian. 

Mickey can hear Katie crying in the back seat, his sister soothing her the best he can. He should have left them at home. He's not thinking clearly. Too overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation to be on top of things like he usually is. He's legitimately scared for the first time since his father was still walking the earth. 

Mickey swerves onto the highway, utterly heedless to the speed limit. He sped around cars, honking his horn as he floored it down the dark lanes of the freeway. 

"Jesus, Mick. Be careful." Mandy said from the back seat, fear laced in her tone. Mickey would scoff if he wasn't so worried. He eyed his sister in the rear view mirror and saw Katie cowering in Mandy's arms. 

He should have done this by himself. It was stupid to bring a human on this mission. Now he would have to worry about Katie as well as Ian and Lip. 

That's if they can even find them. 

Just as the thought slips through Mickey's mind, another vision breaks out behind his eyes. His hands slip off the wheel and everyone in the car loses their shit screaming. 

"Mick! Fuck!" Iggy yelps, grabbing the wheel and pulling them back into their lane. "What the fuck? Do you need me to drive?" 

Mickey shook his head, correcting their course as he attempted to shake the visions loose. He can't believe what he's seeing. He can't believe Ian would be this reckless. "No, I'm fine. We gotta get over to the west side. They just pulled up in front of a church over there. Place look like it's straight out of a horror movie."

"How do you know where they are?" Iggy asks, still unable to process how his brother could possibly know this shit. 

"Iggy, I don't know how many different ways I can say this: I can see Ian, and I can fucking feel him. He's terrified and he's pulling up in front of some creepy abandoned church as we speak." 

"It's the Order, Mick. It has to be." Mandy piped up from the back seat. "Who else would they be going to meet at a church? Think about it." 

"No, Mandy." Mickey sighed. He wasn't sure of much right now, but he was fairly certain they weren't dealing with the Order of the Guild. "Think about what Sam said. There is no more organized Order. And the Guild sounds like a bunch of sissy bookworms. This is someone with a personal grudge." 

"Against us?" Iggy asks, cocking a disbelieving eyebrow at his brother as he careened off the highway off-ramp and onto the city street. 

"That makes no sense." Mandy interjected. "Whoever this is was after the Gallagher brothers. They were tracking that wolf in the woods, saw Lip get bitten, and saw you kill the wolf...He probably found Lip the same way you did. We are caught up in this mess because you grew an irrational affection for a human with a Lupine brother." 

"Oh! So this is my fault now?" Mickey barked, running a stop sign as he skidded through a wide turn. "We've already been through this, Mandy. I wasn't going to let Lip bleed out in the fucking forest." 

"I think this would be happening anyway." Katie muttered from the back, shocking everyone else into silence. 

"Babe, what do you mean?" Mandy asks. Mickey turned the radio off, pretty keen himself on hearing what Katie had to say. 

"After all we've read about Fated Mates, I have to think this is part of some bigger plan." 

Mickey scoffed. Was Katie really trying to save that his connection to Ian was part of some grand cosmic scheme? 

"You mean like God's will?" Iggy asks, clearly sharing Mickey's thoughts. 

"No, not like that." Katie replied, shaking her head. "I don't mean like Divine Will. I mean like fate. That's what we've been dancing around this whole time, right? Fate? Something meant for you, out of your control, inevitable. Like, some people are meant to cross your path no matter what you do. If you and Ian are meant to be together, by design or something I don't understand, then you would find each other no matter what your lives were like, or where you were in the world." 

Mickey's brow furrowed, trying to process what Katie was saying. But before Mickey could ask her to clarify, she spoke again. 

"So, if you'd never come across him in the forest that night, you would have met him at another time. Fate would keep putting you in each other's paths until you met and started this whole thing in motion. In this lifetime or the next. In this reality or another. In this dimension or the next. That's what it means to be fated. It's unavoidable, and it's beautiful. You're very lucky, Mickey." 

"I don't feel very lucky right now." Mickey muttered quietly. What if he fucked this up? What if he couldn't save Ian? How was he supposed to go on if he lost him?

Those morbid stories filter through his mind as he flies down the busy Chicago streets, dodging cars and pedestrians. Those accounts he's read of Upirs dying or going insane after the loss of their fated mate. 

Mickey finds that he wouldn't mind that at all. Even though he and Ian have not gone through a claiming, he knows Ian is his. And he knows that if he loses him, life will have no meaning anymore. The idea of spending endless days on earth suffering under Ian's absence sounds like a fate worse than death. Worse than a thousand years of torture at the hands of his father. Worse than decades buried under the earth.  


If he doesn't save Ian, Mickey's not even going to wait to go insane. He'll take the cowards way out, and hope that Katie is right. He'll hope that he'll meet Ian in another world, or another life. 

Because life suddenly seems meaningless without Ian by his side. 

"We're gonna find 'em, Mick." Iggy says, running his fingers through his shaggy hair. "And the car's packed with all our shit. There's guns in the trunk. I brought the ax, and a couple knives. I don't know how deep these assholes are rolling, but I tell you what, if it's only one dude, we won't even need a gun. We can just rip him to shreds with our bare hands." 

Mickey smiled at his brother's macabre version of moral support. "Thanks Igg." 

"No problem, bro. We always have your back. Besides, Ian's pretty damn cool. And I always wanted a dog, so..." 

"Iggy!" Katie barked from the back seat. "Philip is not a dog." 

"He smells like one." Mandy replied, smacking Katie on the shoulder. 

"Enough." Mickey groaned. "This is my problem, I know. I appreciate you guys having my back." 

"Always, brother." Iggy replied, so serious it gave Mickey pause. They've been through a lot, the three of them, and it was nice to know Mickey could count on them, no matter how insane his plan was.  


Mickey turned onto West Michigan Street, following the stabbing pain in his rib cage. His whole being ached for Ian, and the Pull in his chest was leading him along the street and hopefully closer to his lost lover. Mickey tried to focus on Ian's energy, but it was scattered and unfocused now. Mickey didn't know what that meant, and he was scared as shit. 

As he got further along West Michigan Street, he slowed the car. He could feel they were getting closer, the painful swelling in his chest increasing as he drove. Even the Pull felt different. Distressing and frightening. Not at all that soothing, peaceful feeling that usually fills him. This is one of the most disturbing sensations Mickey's ever encountered in his long life. He feels like he's crawling out of his skin, unable to temper his overwhelming anxiety. 

The thought that these emotions could be coming directly from Ian was troubling. What was happening to him right now? Was he hurt? Was he dying? He was clearly frightened, the energy Mickey was absorbing from him right now was chilling. 

Mickey's body was wracked with wave of excruciating pain, and he cut the wheel hard. The car jumped the curb. The girls yelped in surprise, and Iggy threw his hands up against the dash, in a last minute attempt to not smash his face off the windshield. 

"Mickey!" Iggy yelped, falling back in his seat hard as the car jerked to a stop. 

Mickey didn't reply. He just cut the engine and jumped from the car, slamming the door behind him. Iggy and the girls exchanged a look before hurrying out behind him. They all stood on the sidewalk, watching Mickey closely.

"This is it." Mickey said with certainty. 

Iggy craned his neck to get a good look at the building they were standing in front of. A shiver ran down his spine as the finality of this moment hit him hard. 

They were standing in front of a huge abandoned church. It took up at least half a city block. It was a massive brick structure, with a number of steeples and bell towers. The steps were crumbling and there were waist-high weeds all around the property. The exterior walls and doors were covered in graffiti and almost all the stained glass widows were busted out. 

"Are you sure?" Iggy asks, eyeing the building warily. It's strange for him to get a bad feeling from a building. He's fucking Upir, nothing scares him. But there is something about this place that just doesn't sit right with him. 

"Yeah." Mickey nodded, moving toward the trunk. He popped it open and started loading up on weaponry."He's in there, I can feel it." 

"Mick." Mandy whispered. Mickey could hear the fear in her voice, plain as day. He turned toward her, kicking his foot up on the bumper of the Jeep so he could slip a bowie knife into a hidden holster. His sister and her lover look petrified. Wide eyes, hands clasped tightly together. 

"You guys can stay out here." he said, not really wanting to drag the girls into this mess. "Grab a couple of these guns and get back in the car. If anyone fucks with you, kill them. I don't care who they are, or how you do it. Protect yourself and Katie at all costs, okay?" 

Mandy nodded, grabbing two handguns from Iggy's outstretched hands and moving back toward the car. She glanced back at Mickey, a ghost of her smile on her lips. "Mick, if I wanna kill some collared douchebag, I don't need a gun." 

Mickey gave his sister a ghost of a smile. She was right, of course. Mandy could take care of herself. She could kill any human stupid enough to step to her with her bare hands and not even mess up her make up. But he didn't want her to have to. It was his job to protect her, as her brother and the leader of their Clan. He loved her dearly, though he'd never tell her that. Leaving her out here to fend for herself while he and Iggy walk into this unknown situation, it doesn't feel right. But he had to do it, and he has to trust her to take care of herself and Katie. He has to trust her to kill anyone before they can hurt her. 

He knows she can, he just doesn't want her to have to. 

Mandy helped Katie into the front passenger seat, carefully passing her a pistol. She then ran around the front of the car and opened the driver's side door, but paused, turning toward her brothers with a soft expression on her face. 

"Please, be careful." she said lowly. "Mick, please, don't do anything crazy. I know you care about Ian, but..." 

Mickey's responding scoff shut her up immediately. He totally ignores her attempt to talk him out of this, instead focusing on her again. "I mean it, Mands." he says. "Kill first ask questions later." 

She nods, cocking her gun. He turned away from his sister worried face and continued to stock up from the trunk, sticking a 9mm pistol in the back of his jeans and slipping some brass knuckles onto the fingers of his left hand. He knew if it came down to it, he could kill these assholes with his teeth, but those wounds would be much too hard to hide if they had to dump the bodies. No one around here would blink an eye at a body riddled with bullets or knife wounds, but a body drained of blood with bite marks all over it may draw some unwanted attention.

Mickey doesn't like how easy this is for him, how easily he falls back into that mindset. He has always hoped to leave this shit in the past. The death and dead bodies. The murder. 

But this is part of who Mickey is. A predator. He made peace with that a long time ago, even though he no longer takes human life needlessly. 

Now that he finds himself in a life or death situation again, he's a little shocked to find himself so bloodthirsty. He's never been so consumed by rage in all his existence. He wants to find these people that would hurt Ian and tear them apart piece by piece. He wants to make them bleed. He wants to drown in their terrified screams as he drains their blood and then revel in the wet crack of their necks snapping. 

"You ready?" Iggy asks, pulling Mickey out of his macabre fantasies. 

Mickey nods, shaking his limbs out in preparation for battle. 

"Yeah, Igg." Mickey says, voice low as him mind slips into predator mode. "Let's fuck these assholes up."

Mickey starts up the dark walkway. He can feel his brother right next to him, his backup, his support, his protector. 

As Mickey makes his way to the dark, formidable building, his mind quiets and his focus becomes singular. 

Find Ian, protect Ian. And fucking destroy anyone who would stand in his way. 

 

***

 

1 hour earlier

Ian and Lip pull up behind a large abandoned church on the West side of the city. The text they got from the stalker was very specific. They wanted Ian to park in the back, out of sight of the street. No phones, no guns, no one but Ian and Lip. 

The brothers were too scared to go against any of the stalker's demands. The thought of being the cause of Fiona's death weighed heavy on both their minds. 

The drive to Chicago had been quite, both men too lost in their own fears to speak. Ian mind was a spiraling mess. Alternating between fear for Fiona's safety, concern over how they were going to pull this off, and Mickey. He can't get the other man out of his head. Mickey must be so worried about him right now. He must be so pissed at Ian for just taking off like that. But Ian didn't know what else to do. This person, the stalker, they had his sister. Fiona was everything to him, she raised him, loved him unconditionally, supported him through all his bullshit, never once left him hanging. Mickey would understand, he had to. 

God, Ian would give anything to have Mickey with him right now. Just being near the other man soothed him in a way he never thought possible. And not just in that mindfuck, emotion manipulation Upir way. Mickey makes him feel important, special. Like he's enough, just the way he is. No one has ever made him feel that way before. Of course, Ian would find his person in the midst of the craziest time of his life. And of course his person could not even be a regular person. His person had to be an immortal Ukrainian.

But none of that shit matters. Not the blood drinking. Not the Catholic death squad hunting them. Not the fact that everyone around them thought they were making a huge mistake. 

Because what Ian had with Mickey was fucking special. Ian loves him. Ian feels like he's loved him forever. And he's not ready to let that go. He has to get back to him. It hurts to be away from him. 

But first, he has to finish this shit. 

Once the car was turned off, the brothers exited quickly, Ian in the lead. They tried the back door, but it was locked with a giant chain.

"God damn it!" Lip exclaimed, punching the wall. "What kind of cult member stalker criminal mastermind gives you directions and doesn't even make sure you can follow them? What kind of fucking idiot are we dealing with?" 

"Lip." Ian sighed, turning around and going back the way they came. "Fucking forget the back door, let's just go around front." 

The dark wood doors at the front of the church looming before them. There was broken glass and trash strewn all along the walk. Ian saw a dirty baby doll with no eyes, empty bottles of Wild Turkey and even a few used needles and crack pipes. The litter would ironically soothe Ian under different circumstances, reminding him of home. But in this instance it only added to the dark, haunted feeling of the space. Ian took the steps two at a time, his fingers wrapping around the door's handle. Lip's hand shot out quickly, gripping his wrist tightly and stilling Ian's movements. Ian turned to glance at his brother, curious. Lip looked more scared than Ian had ever seen him in his entire life. That look alone chilled Ian to his very core. 

This was real. They could die. Right now. 

Lip's eyes stayed locked with Ian's, his fingers digging into the skin on his wrist. "Ian, this guy wants me." Lip said quietly. "This has nothing to do with you. You should go." 

Ian scoffed, unable to comprehend what his brother was saying. He ripped his hand free, pointing right in Lip's face. "No way." he spat, incredulous. "No fucking way. I'm not letting you go in there by yourself. We do this together. Fiona is our sister, Lip. And we are brothers. We're fucking family, and I'm not abandoning you now, when you need me the most." 

Lip shook his head, running his fingers through his hair anxiously. "Ian..."

But Ian only shook his head again, his chin jutting out defiantly. "No, Lip. Now shut the fuck up. We need to get in there, Fiona could be really hurt." 

Lip hung his head, defeated, and nodded. Ian sighed, steadying himself as he opened the door and stepping inside. He could feel Lip's fingers wrapping around the hem of his jacket, and he was comforted by the close contact. He wanted his brother right next to him. He was scared to death, but couldn't let that show. He had to stay calm and in control if they were going to find a way out of this mess. 

How he was going to fix this, he had no idea. He couldn't think of a single scenario where they all made it out of this shit alive. 

His heart was pounding as he walked into the empty church. The place smelled like mold and dirt. He cast his eyes around the space, growing more frightened by the second. Ian looked around, searching for any sign of his sister. It was dark inside, the only light coming from the giant broken windows lining the walls. The ceiling was arched high, large clumps of the wood and plaster missing. The floor was littered with debris from the crumbling structure. Ian stepped further into the space, broken glass splintering under his feet as he moved. 

"Shhhh." Lip whispered, as if Ian could help it. He could barely see, and there wasn't a single clean spot on the floor. Ian just kept walking, past busted pews and piles of refuse. He saw a stack of bibles, pages torn and strewn across the isle that ran up the center of the space. A loud noise startled them both and Ian nearly jumped out of his skin. 

"What the fuck!" Lip yelped as a glass bottle shattered on the chipped tile floor. The brother's spun to face the noise, only to find a giant rat running along a shelf on the far wall. The shelf was lined with empty liquor bottles, and the rat had knocked one to the floor. 

"Jesus." Ian sighed, a tiny laugh bubbling from his throat. This whole situation was just so insane. "It's a rat, Lip, relax." 

Lip opened his mouth to retort, but stopped short, putting his finger to his lip to silence his brother. 

"What?" Ian whispered, his pulse picking up again. 

"Listen." Lip responded quietly. 

Both brothers stood in the middle of the room, staring at each other with wide eyes as they held their breath, straining to hear that noise again. 

And there it was.

A strange sort of muffled crying. Whimpering, maybe. 

Ian's eyes shot over to the far end of the room. At the very end of the long isle they were standing on, loomed the church's altar. It was up on a high platform, towering above the few pews that remained standing.

The wide wood altar was surrounded by a curved stone wall, creating an ominous alcove with no opportunity for escape. 

The altar was flanked by a series of tall brass candelabras, all of which were adorned with brand new red candles. 

A shiver ran down Ian's spine. That didn't bode well for them at all. 

The whimpering came again and Ian's eyes shot over to Lip, who was already staring at him. 

Ian jerked his head in the direction of the altar and Lip nodded. They turned up the isle and started making their way toward the head of the room, taking great care to remain as quiet as possible. 

Ian inched up the isle, carefully avoiding the broken glass and garbage strewn across the space. Lip was right behind him, once again gripping the bottom of his jacket as they made their way toward the ominous noise together. 

Ian could hardly breathe, his heart pounding painfully in his chest. This whole situation felt like a hallucination brought on by his disorder. There's no way this could be real. It's was all just too insane. This can't be his life. 

The noise was getting louder the closer they got to the altar. Ian couldn't make out what it was. Shuffling? Scratching? Coughing? His mind was spinning as he finally came to the tall wooden altar. The entire thing was covered in obscene graffiti, broken tiles and splintered wood covered the floor in front of the altar. 

Ian stood in front of it, breathing heavy. He glanced back at his brother one last time. Lip gave him a jerky nod and they split up, stepping around the altar. Ian moved to the left, Lip to the right. They walked around the altar slowly, careful to stay quiet. 

They moved in sync, coming around the other side together, fists out and ready. It was dark on the other side of the altar, the shadows of the tall wooden structure blocking the light from the rest of the room. Ian's eyes took a minute to adjust, at first he didn't see anything at all. But Lip dropped to his knees immediately, crying out into the empty space. 

"Fiona!" Lip yelped, and Ian's eyes went wide. He dropped alongside his brother, surprised and frightened to find his sister, curled up under the altar. She looked so small and frail, stuffed into the small space.  


"Ian, help me, god damn it." Lip spat, turning Fiona around in his lap. Ian hadn't noticed before, but Fiona was unconscious, and covered in blood. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, a blindfold over her eyes, tape on her mouth. Well, that explains the muffled whimpering. 

Ian ripped the tape off Fiona's mouth before removing her blindfold. Lip was still cradling her in his arms, but Ian needed to get a look at her wounds. 

All the movement must have woken Fiona, because she started thrashing, screaming. "No!" she yelled, trying to wiggle away. 

"Hey." Lip soothed as Ian finally got the blindfold off. "Hey, Fi. It's us. You're safe."

Fiona stared at them, uncomprehending. Her eyes were wide and scared, her breath coming in short bursts. "Ian? Lip?" she glanced between them, shocked, her bloodshot eyes wide.

"Yeah, Fi." Ian replied, his own voice cracking. "We're here. Everything's gonna be fine." 

"What are you doing here?" Fiona asked, voice hoarse. Her face was puffy from hours of crying. She had a black eye and dry blood crusted around her nose and mouth. "I told you to stay away."

"Like that would ever happen." Lip retorted, still holding Fiona tight to his chest. 

"Fiona, where are you hurt?" Ian asks, ignoring his sibling's bickering. "I need to stop this bleeding." 

"My stomach, I think. Hurts." Fiona whined lowly. "Feels so cold." 

"We need to get the cuffs off first." Lip disagreed. 

"I think the bleeding is the most pressing issue." Ian shot back. 

"It will be easier to help her with her cuffs off, Ian." Lip shot back, voice hard.

"Guys. Guys." Fiona interjected weakly. "Just go. He's going to kill you." 

"Who is it?" LIp asks, helping Fiona sit up so they can get to her cuffs. 

"I don't know." Fiona said tiredly. "I was outside the house, putting the trash out. Motherfucker tased me. I woke up in the trunk of a car with a fucking bag over my head. He dumped me here, wherever this is, made that call and just left me here. I can't move." she motioned to here feet, that were duct taped together at the ankle. "I was screaming for help, he punched me in the face, guess he knocked me out. I don't know where he went." her eyes moved wildly around the room, searching for her assailant. "We gotta go." she said urgently. "We gotta go. He could come back at any minute." she wriggled in Lip's grasp. "Help me up, cut that shit. We gotta go." 

"Fiona, I gotta stop the bleeding first. Where are you bleeding from?" Ian asks, laying a soothing hand on Fiona's shoulder. 

"I, I don't know." Fiona replied, confused. "I don't remember getting hurt, except the punch." 

"First thing's first." Lip interjected, pulling out his wallet. 

"Lip, what are you doing?" Ian asked, eyebrows raised. 

"We gotta get the cuffs off. Fiona turn around, back to me." Lip responded, finally finding what he was looking for in the fold of his wallet. He pulled out a paperclip and immediately started messing with it. He pulled it all the way apart before folding the metal down into an L shape. 

"Oh shit!" Ian said, relief flooding his system. "The paperclip trick." 

Fiona gave her own tired chuckle, her voice breaking. "I was so pissed at you guys when you taught Carl how to pick handcuffs. Remember?" she let Ian help her move, pulling her to a seated position. Lip started working on the cuffs immediately, while Ian pulled his leatheman out of his pocket and started cutting away the duct tape around her ankles. 

"Bingo." Lip crowed as the first cuff slipped open. He got to work on the second on as Ian pulled the tape off Fiona's ankles. Once Lip had the cuffs off, he moved back, pulling Fiona's head into his lap so Ian could assess her injuries. 

Ian moved carefully, keenly aware of how much pain his sister must be in. He's shaking, and he doesn't really know what he's doing. They don't cover this shit in an everyday first aid class or even his ROTC training. But he has to try. They have to at least stem the bleeding before they try to move her. "Lip, I need something to wrap this with." Ian says, his eyes widening as he finally locates the wound. 

Shit. 

Fiona has an ugly puncture would on her right side. It was bleeding, but not profusely. Slow trickles of blood dripping out of her body and pooling on the floor gave Ian a little hope. Whoever stabbed her did not hit an artery. 

"Lip, I need some cloth. Something to cover this wound and stop the bleeding." Ian said, putting both hands over the wound. He applied pressure while Lip gently took Fiona off his lap. He laid her carefully on the floor before standing and gripping his shirt in both hands. A harsh tearing sound ripped through the space as Lip tore the bottom off his t shirt. He handed the long piece of cloth to Ian and knelt back down next to Fiona. He took her hand, running his fingers through her hair. 

"It's gonna be okay, Fi." Lip said quietly, his voice wavering. He locked eyes with Ian, and they shared a frightened look. The lie hung heavy in the air. Nobody knew if it was going to be okay. 

Ian pressed the cloth to Fiona's wound. Fiona hissed, her back arching severely. 

"Shhh." Ian soothed. "It's fine. We're fine." Ian pressed down harder, knowing he had to stop the bleeding. Fiona cried out again, breaking Ian's heart. "Lip, more cloth, we gotta wrap this tight." 

Lip nodded, ripping more of his shirt and handing the long strip of cloth. Ian took it with a nod, shifting Fiona so he could wrap the wound. "Lip, help me hold her up, and pull her shirt up." 

The brothers gingerly lifted Fiona, both boys cringing as their sister cried out again. 

"Sorry." Lip murmured, tears welling in his eyes. 

Ian didn't speak, he just wrapped the wound as tightly as he could, knotting the fabric against Fiona's back. Once the bandage was in place, Ian carefully pulled Fiona's shirt back down. "Okay, we gotta get the fuck outta here. Grab her arm and lift, Lip. Be careful. We're going back to that hospital we passed on the way here." 

Ian and Lip grabbed Fiona, lifting her up as carefully as they could. She cried out, screaming loudly in pain as they each wrapped one of her arms over their shoulders and stood. 

"Fi, you're fine, we're getting you out of here." Lip said as they started the long journey back to the door. She could barely walk, Ian and Lip supporting all her weight as they staggered down the filth ridden isle.  


Fiona didn't respond, and Lip stopped dead, causing Ian to lurch and almost dump Fiona on the ground. 

"Lip, we gotta go." Ian insisted. 

"She's not answering." Lip stammered, grabbing Fiona's face and shaking it. "Fi! Fi!" 

"She's passed out." Ian replied. "From the pain, I'm guessing. Feel her pulse, Lip." 

Lip's fingers went to her throat, and he deflated in relief. "It's there." he said. 

"Good, let's fucking go then." Ian replied. He started moving again, desperate to get out of this place. If they could get away before the stalker came back, they just might be able to save Fiona and live to fight another day. 

Because this was clearly not over. Ian hadn't known how he wanted to deal with the stalker until this moment. Seeing his sister bound and in pain, Ian knew. 

He wanted this motherfucker dead. 

They were close to the door now, dragging Fiona's dead weight the whole way. Ian could feel hope bubbling in his chest. They could still do this. They could beat this asshole. They just had to get Fiona to the hospital first. They had to get her safe. 

Ian had one hand on the door handle, the other still wrapped tightly around Fiona's waist. He pushed the door open, the cool night air hitting him in the face. He took a deep breath, smiling. They did it.

"Stop right there." a voice from behind them called. Ian's heart stopped, fear gripping his chest tightly. He tightened his grip around his wounded sister, glancing at his brother, who look just as terrified. "Step away from the door." the man said, voice even. He was quiet, unemotional, and his tone chilled Ian's blood. 

Ian was about to say fuck it and make a run for it when he heard the sickening sound of a shotgun pumping. 

Ian's blood ran cold. His hand slipped from the door and he exhaled heavily. 

"The Gallagher brothers." the man said coolly. "I've been waiting for you. Finally, our time has come."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys don't think i'm dragging this out too much i just thought this would be a good place to end it, while still moving the story forward. besides, this gives you a little something to read while i work on the next chapter. thank you for your understanding and your support, it means the world to me.


	12. Blood, sweat and tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian and Lip find themselves in a situation with no chance for escape. Mickey is intent on saving them, but it may be too late.

Mickey cocks his gun, holding it in his left hand, using his right to prop open the heavy church door and step inside, Iggy right on his heels. The inside of the church is dark and foreboding. The night is fully upon them now, and the moon has moved well past the busted up windows. The only light in the entire space comes from the dim streetlights beyond the shattered glass and the blinking candle light on the church's altar. 

Mickey knows the candles are a bad sign. The Order is here, or at least the Order's psychotic stalker fan boy. Mickey cast his eyes around the space, his Upir eyes adjusting to the darkness immediately. He sees garbage and dead animals all over the floor. Busted up church pews and burned bibles. It looked like a homeless encampment had some kind of riot inside. 

But none of that shit matters to Mickey. What matters is Ian. And the moment he stepped into this godforsaken church, Mickey's whole body erupted in massive shocks of energy. It was like the Pull had exploded in his rib cage, pulsing out in huge waves, throbbing through his body like an endless jolt of electricity. His chest was pounding, vibrations splintering out from behind his ribs. It felt like his long-dead heart was pounding in his chest. It felt like his pulse was racing. He hasn't forgotten what that feels like, that erratic pulse that comes with intense fear, that flow of adrenaline that sets your teeth on edge. That's what he's feeling right now, and it confuses him. 

Mickey doesn't have feelings like this. Not anymore.

As he makes his way down the cluttered isle, he realizes what it is. It's not just the Pull he's feeling. It's Ian. He's feeling Ian's adrenaline, Ian's anxiety. It is Ian's rapid pulse shooting through his empty veins, it's Ian's heartbeat thundering in his quiet chest cavity. 

Ian is terrified, Mickey can feel it in every fiber of his being. But that fact only spurs Mickey on. If Ian is terrified, Ian is alive. 

Mickey made it. He got here in time. 

He can feel Ian in every inch of this place. His energy is low and murky, and that is frightening, but it's there, and it's very real. And if Mickey can still feel him, Mickey can still save him. 

He takes his steps carefully and quietly, his brother close behind him, but just as silent. Their Upir traits make it almost too easy to make it to the front of the church without drawing any attention to themselves.  


Not that it matters, since the place looks fucking deserted. Iggy grips Mickey's wrist, stopping his forward motion. Mickey looks over, and Iggy is nodding toward the front of the room. 

"What the fuck." Mickey whispered, taking in the scene at the front of the church. They'd missed it when they'd first walked in due to a huge bookcase in the middle of the isle. But once they passed the obstruction, they had a clear view of the altar space. 

More candles. At least thirty of them. Lining the perimeter of the old wooden altar, burning in tall candelabras along the curved back wall, sitting in ancient looking sconces that dot the crumbling stone walls. The cast the whole space in a weak orange glow that leaves the entire space feeling haunted and ominous. 

Mickey's eyes frantically search for any sign of Ian or his brother, but he comes up empty. Even with his heightened eyesight, he can't catch a single glimpse of either Gallagher. He starts to become more frantic as he gets close to the altar and still can't find them. Being quiet is no longer an option. Mickey starts tossing aside broken pews, moving piles of wood and stone, hoping to find a sign of Ian somewhere. But no matter how much shit he moved, or how much he reached for Ian in his mind, he found nothing. 

They made it to the front of the church, slowly and methodically. They checked every overturned cabinet, every high pile of broken furniture. The last thing they needed was for one of these assassin assholes to catch them off guard. 

The place seemed utterly deserted. If it weren't for the gothic candle display at the front of the room, Mickey would think they had the wrong place. 

Once they made it to the altar, Mickey's breath hitched, his chest constricting painfully. A full body shiver wracked his body. The Pull ached for Ian, throbbing more and more with each passing moment. Mickey's mind a mess of Ian's emotions, Ian's pain. He could feel it as if it were his own, and it was devastating.

"Iggy, this is it." Mickey said lowly, pulling his gun and cocking it. Iggy did the same and they made their way around the altar together, flanking left and right. They stepped slowly around the alter, coming around to the other side with guns drawn. 

"What the fuck?" Iggy said, scratching his temple with the barrel of his gun. 

The space is empty. But there are disheartening signs that they are in the right place. There are long tangled strips duct tape covered in blood strewn across the floor, and a set of handcuffs with yet more dry blood on them. The floor is scuffed, as if someone was struggling desperately underneath the altar. 

Mickey crouched down, stuffing his head under the altar to get a better look. "Blood, Igg." he said lowly, swiping his finger through the tacky liquid and bringing it to his nose. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, desperately hoping for that familiar scent. His heart sank as the aroma hit his nostrils. "It's not Ian or Lip." he decided, wiping his fingers off on his jeans. "Someone related, maybe." 

"Mick, what the fuck is happening here?" Iggy asks, unable to wrap his head around this turn of events. He took a step back so Mickey could wriggle out from under the altar. His foot slipped and he went careening backwards. 

"What the fuck!" Iggy yelped, righting himself at the last second and turning quickly on the spot. "Mick. Get over here." 

Mickey stood immediately and walked the few steps to where his brother was. Iggy was standing at the end of the raised altar platform. He had almost fallen off the back of the platform, which would have sent him tumbling into the empty black abyss behind the stage. 

"What the fuck is that shit?" Mickey asks, leaning over the end of the stage to get a better look. His Upir eyes caught the edge of the wall, but beyond that, nothing but darkness. 

"I don't know, it's weird, right? There's a little ladder over there." Iggy pointed to the back corner of the alcove, indicating a small ladder leading under the stage. "Storage space, maybe?" 

"They're down there." Mickey said, feeling a fresh wave of anxious nausea roll through him. His body was seized with pain as he gazed into the dark emptiness under the altar. "Let's fucking go." 

Iggy nodded, following Mickey toward the ladder. 

"Mick." Iggy whispered harshly. Mickey turned, one hand on the edge of the ladder. His brother was pointing at the hardwood floor beneath their feet. 

Small droplets of blood. A trail of blood lead across the hardwood floor of the platform, from the altar all the way over to the ladder. 

"Shit." Mickey sighed. This is bad. "Go. I'll be right behind you." 

Iggy nodded, swinging his foot onto the ladder and quickly descending into the dark unknown. 

Once Iggy was out of sight, Mickey was quick to hop on the ladder himself. The thing was flimsy and poorly constructed. Obviously home made. It swayed and creaked as Mickey moved down the rungs. 

He jumped off the ladder and landed on the compressed dirt of the church's basement's floor. He looked around, his eyes scanning this new space for any sign of Ian or Lip. 

The basement of the church was not finished, and much like the space upstairs, it was trashed. Yet more candles illuminated the space, casting the cramped room in a sinister glow. The floor was packed down earth, the entire church being held up by what amounted to decaying timber. Row upon row of round bare logs, some rotten, some broken. It wasn't safe to be down here. They needed to do this and get gone as soon as possible. 

"Mick, you hear that?" Iggy whispered, jerking his head toward the back left corner of the basement. Mickey's eyes shot over toward the noise. 

Voices. 

Mickey nodded, slipping his gun out of his jeans and cocking it. He waved his brother forward and they made their way toward the back corner of the basement together. 

Mickey's body was vibrating with fear. The emotion was not his, it was Ian's, and it was so intense he felt like he might vomit. 

This was bad. 

 

***

 

Ian pinches his eye shut tight as his brother screams again. He can't watch. He knows he's a pussy, but he just can't. He already threw up all over himself. The acrid smell of vomit permeates his nostrils, but he can't do anything to change that either. 

He's in pain, although he's certain Lip is hurting worse. His arms are numb from being held up for so long, his fingers tingling painfully. He flexes his hands, trying to circulate the blood, but it's pointless. 

He has dry blood all over his face. It's matted in his hair, long trails of it snaking down his neck and chest. This guy is brutal, and Ian is very afraid how all of this is going to end. 

Fiona isn't making any noise at all, and that is very worrisome for Ian. He can't see her from where he's chained up against the wall. He can't tell if she's still bleeding, he can't tell if she's breathing. She could be dead right now, and Ian would have no idea. 

Lip wails again and fresh tears spring in Ian's eyes. 

"Stop!" Ian screams. He can't take this anymore. "Just please, stop hurting him" He finally peels his eyes open, regretting that decision instantly when he sees the state his brother is in. 

Lip is also chained to the wall, his arms suspended above his head, his feet tied together. His shirt is torn open and he's got long, wide cuts trailing down his chest, blood weeping from from the wounds and seeping into his pants. His face is busted up, he's got a black eye and a split lip. He had a bloody nose at some point, the dry blood caked to his face painting an ominous picture. 

The man pauses, knife still pressed to Lip's chest, and turns to face Ian. "And why would I do that?" he asks, face impassive. 

The man doesn't look menacing, which only frightens Ian more. He's a priest, that much is clear by his all black outfit and collar. He can't be older than twenty, tall and pale, with dark red hair and green eyes. He looks like any harmless random asshole on the street, not a murderous maniac. 

It's disconcerting. 

"We didn't do anything." Ian insists. His eyes fall on his brother again. Lip's head is hung low, his chin resting against his chest. He's breathing, but barely. Every time he takes a breath, a low wheezing sound fills the space. Ian's worried he's got a punctured lung or something. He need to get Lip to a hospital. 

They fucked up. Clearly. Coming here alone, assuming they could figure this out by themselves. 

Now they were going to die. 

It all happened so fast. 

They had been two steps from freedom when this whackjob accosted them. Ian and Lip had turned slowly, coming face to face with their stalker, this Order disciple. Imagine their surprise when they realized the kid was pretty much a preschooler. He couldn't be more that twenty.

But his young age did not negate the fact that he had them at gunpoint. He hit Lip over the head with the barrel of his gun, sending him to his knees. Fiona had slipped out of their grasp, going sprawling to the floor. Ian threw his hands up, scared to do anything that would get his siblings killed. 

The priest had made Ian cuff Lip up before cuffing himself. The man then lifted Fiona and ordered them to follow him to the basement. They had gone without a fight. 

Ian had always thought if he found himself in this situation with someone, he'd fight back. He was combat trained. From ROTC, but still. He knew how to throw a punch. He knew how to take a guy down.  


But practicing at school and being in a life or death situation are two very different things. Ian couldn't risk attacking this man. He was holding his older sister, and Lip was bleeding and hurt. There was nothing for Ian to do but comply. 

When they got to the hole in the floor behind the altar, Ian was positive they were all going to die. If they went down there with this psychopath, they'd never see the outside of this godforsaken church ever again. 

But what else was there to do? He was cuffed and both his siblings were injured. Even if Ian got free by some miracle, by the time he found help and got back to the church, Fiona and Lip would both be dead. 

The priest had thrown Fiona's body into the hole in the floor. The noise she made when she hit the ground was sickening. This dull thud, followed by a pained groan. 

That's when Ian started crying. He hasn't stopped since. 

Once they were all in the dark, dank basement, the priest had affixed Ian and Lip's cuffs to the moldy brick wall. There were rusty old screw eyes on the wall, and Ian had to wonder how many other poor souls met their end in this dark lonely basement.

They were suspended above the dirt floor, Ian's toes barely grazing the muddy floor beneath is feet. 

Since then it's been nothing but beatings and torture. The man has hardly spoken. If he's with the Order, he's not saying. He just alternates between beating Ian and cutting on Lip. It's painful and it's exhausting and Ian has never been more scared in his entire life. 

If they are going to die here, he hopes the priest with have some compassion and do it quickly. 

But judging by the way things have gone so far, they will not be that lucky. Ian watches through his swollen eyes as the priest walks up to Lip once more, bowie knife in hand.

"Philip, it's in your best interest to tell me what you know about the Packs." the man says, dragging the blunt end of his knife along Lip's rib cage. 

"What Packs?" Lip shoots back, defiant as ever. Ian's surprised by how calm Lip sounds. Annoyed even. Like this priest is wasting his time or something. "You got the wrong guy, dude, I don't know shit about any fucking packs." 

The priest grins, pressing the knife to Lip's stomach and dragging it along the skin. Blood seeps from the wound and Lip hisses, throwing his head back against the brick wall, eyes closed. 

"Don't lie to me, dog. I know all about you. I've been watching you very closely, waiting for the right moment to strike. This can go one of two ways. Either you tell me what I want to know, and your end will be quick and relatively painless. Or you can drag this out, and I will make you watch as I kill your sister, then you demon loving brother." the priest glares at Ian before fixing his eyes on Lip once more. "Then, only after you watch the life drain out of his eyes will I end you, slowly and painfully. After which I will go to your house and dispatch the rest of your mongrel family. The Gallaghers of North Wallace Street will be no more, and the world will be a better place for it. You decide." 

Lip deflated, sagging against the wall. "I can't tell you what I don't know." he said sadly. 

"Listen to me, beast." the priest said, walking over to Ian with his knife out. "You will tell me what I want to know. Everyone always does. I know you are a wolf, and wolves run in packs. Just like those disgusting Upirs and their clans. So give me the names of your Pack, or things are going to get significantly more bloody for your brother here." he held the knife up to Ian's neck, pressing gently against Ian's throat. Ian swallowed, the blade grazing his adam's apple. 

"We don't know anything." Lip repeated. " I don't have a fucking pack, man. I don't know any other wolves, I swear. This all just kind of happened. It was an accident. Do you think I would ever want this shit? My life was hard enough without adding this bullshit to the mix." Lip glared at their assailant. The man stepped away from Ian and Lip sighed in relief. He had keep this asshole's focus on him. He had to protect Ian and Fiona. 

"Oh, I know all about your upbringing, Philip." the man said. "Your pathetic excuse for a family. Criminals, addicts, deviants. Disgusting." he glared at the brothers before walking over to Fiona.

"No!" Ian yelled, pulling against his restraints. "Leave her alone. She's not part of this." 

The priest chuckled, shrugging. "She's part of all of it, Ian." 

A chill ran down Ian's spine. He didn't like the way this guy said his name. Like he knew all his secrets. 

Hell, maybe he did. 

"Your family is a stain on the Gallagher name." the man said, confusing Ian. What the hell does this guy know about his family? 

"You don't know shit about our family." Lip spat, mirroring Ian's thoughts. 

"Oh, I do. I know that the rest of your family are upstanding citizens. Law abiding people who just want to make a life for themselves. But you people, Frank's godforsaken offspring, your misdeeds follow these innocent people like a plague, all around Chicago. Do you people ever stop to think of how your behavior affects them? The dirty looks they get, the way people look down on them, just for sharing your surname?" 

Ian's brow furrowed. Through the pain he realized that this line of questioning felt very personal all of the sudden. 

"Upstanding citizen Gallaghers? You mean like Grammy?" Lip laughed. "The meth cook?" 

"Don't you dare disparage Peg!" the priest roared, rounding on Lip, knife out. Lip cowered against the wall, eyes wide. 

"How did you know our grandmother?" Ian asked, his blood running cold. This feels bigger than the Order, or Lip's condition. 

This goes beyond all that. 

The man doesn't answer Ian's question. He turned away from them, walking to the other side of the room and rummaging through a big black bag. Ian watches him carefully, very afraid of what fresh hell could be contained in that bag. 

"You really don't know me." the priest says, his tone oddly sad. "I thought you might recognize me."

"We don't know you." Ian insisted. "We don't know you, and we won't tell anyone. You don't have to do this. Please, we're human beings. We don't deserve to die like this." 

"Neither did my father." the priest replies, turning toward them again with something metal in his hands. "Do you know what this is, Philip?" the man waved the item in the air. 

Ian watched all the blood drain from Lip's face. His mouth hung open in shock, his bloodshot eyes wide. 

"It's the Cat's Paw." Lip said, voice wavering. 

"Smart man." the priest laughed. "It's also known as the Spanish Tickler." the object was made of metal. Four long, sharp prongs jutting off a metal handle. "It was invented during the middle ages. I can tear every inch of skin from your body, and you will remain conscious the entire time, able to feel every excruciating second. Is that what you want, Philip?" 

"No." Lip replied, all fight draining out of him. 

"Why are you doing this?" Ian asks, unable to hold back any longer. "The Order is gone. Does your church know you are doing this?" 

The priest rounded on Ian, fire in his eyes. "The Order was the only way. The Guild is a disgrace. The church knows nothing!" 

Ian shrunk back against the wall, taken aback by the priest's sudden outburst. 

"The old ways were the only way to deal with you soulless creatures." the man continued, growing more irate by the moment. "Kill first, ask no questions. A monster is a monster. You are either of God or you are not. This garbage they practice now is repugnant. How can you stand by and let creatures like werewolves and vampires live? How can you observe them, and not destroy them? How can you allow them to exist in God's kingdom?" 

"How can you be so cold?" Ian asks, surprising himself. The priest rounds on him, but Ian finds he's no longer afraid. He's fucking pissed. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about. You're spouting off all this religious bullshit to further your own hatred. My brother's never hurt a single person in his entire life, and Mickey saved Lip's life in that forest. He doesn't kill people. We're all just trying to live our lives. You're the murderer." 

"I don't kill people." the man insisted. "I kill monsters. Like the ones who murdered my father." 

"How did he die?" he asks lowly. If he can get this guy talking about personal shit, show him some empathy, maybe he can buy them some time. If he can make this man see them as people and not monsters, maybe they can convince him not to kill them. 

"I've always wanted to be a priest." the man said, totally ignoring Ian's question. "When I was child, church was the only place I felt like I belonged. When I was in seminary, I learned of the Order, the old ways. I felt like I had finally found my life's purpose. People who understood me. Kindred souls. Doing God's work, destroying Satan's disciples on Earth. I was too young to be in the original Order, so I joined to Guild. It wasn't nearly as satisfying, but I got to kill a Satanic beast once in a while, so I was moderately appeased. I thought their methods were ridiculous, but who was I to go against the church? Then one night I got a call from my mother. My father had been attacked while on a hunting trip. Mauled by some wild animal. But I knew. It was a werewolf. Tore him limb from limb. There was hardly anything left to bury." 

Ian's mouth went dry. He's heard this story before. He went to that funeral. 

"So, I went to the leaders of the Guild, begged them to let me investigate. But they were adamant about their inane procedures. The Order had been disbanded, and with them went the Warriors of God. The gutless Guild leaders wanted to investigate more. Told me my father could have been attacked by a mountain lion or a bear. But I knew! I knew it was an unholy beast. So when the Guild turned me away, I picked up the investigation on my own. I would have justice for my father." 

"Jacob." Ian whispered, disbelieving. 

Lip's head shot up, a pained grunt slipping past his lips as he stared at their assailant. "What?"

Jacob laughed, shaking his head at Lip. "I didn't think the demon lover would be the smarter of the two of you. Life is indeed full of surprises." 

"He's Clayton's son, Lip. Frank's brother. The one that died in the hunting accident a few years ago, remember?" 

Lip shook his head, horror-stricken. "You're family? How could you do this to us? You do know Ian is your brother, right? Clayton was his father too." 

"He is NOT my brother!" Jacob raged. "No brother of mine would ever take an Upir as a lover. No brother of mine would be a faggot. That is against God's law." 

"Oh!" Lip laughed incredulously. "Not only are you a massive dick with a superiority complex, not only are you a delusional, deranged fanatic, you're a fucking homophobe too. Classic. Way to bask in Christ's love, kiddo." 

"Shut your mouth, beast." Jacob yelled, slicing Lip's stomach with his Cat's Paw, splitting three long, nasty cuts across his torso. Lip howled in pain, his skin tearing, spraying blood all over Jacob's face. Jacob grimaced, wiping his face with the sleeve of his robe. "You people disgust me. I won't have a filthy hell hound in my family, or a demon fucking faggot. I will purge you from this world, and cleanse my family of your filth." 

Lip laughed. He knocked his head against the brick wall and lost himself in a fit of giggles. He wheezed painfully, his wounds pulling as his chest heaved. "Cleanse the family! That's hilarious." 

"There is nothing funny about this. You are a scourge on the family name."

"Says the psychotic religious zealot murderer." Lip huffed, rolling his swollen eyes.

"Lip, stop." Ian pleaded. He doesn't know what Lip is trying to do, but Ian is afraid he's going to talk himself right into his own murder. Jacob looks like he's ready to plunge his knife right into Lip's neck. 

"No, Ian, seriously." Lip says, glaring at Jacob with disdain. "He's a fucking hypocrite." 

Ian ignored his brother, focusing instead on Jacob. "I'm sorry about Clayton's death." Ian said sincerely. "That's a horrible way to die, and I understand why you would want revenge. But Lip didn't kill your father. He hasn't hurt anyone."

"He will." Jacob replied. "He won't be able to help himself. He's an animal now, a demonic beast. They have no conscience. Their only purpose on Earth is to kill innocents in the name of their father, Satan." 

"You do understand how crazy you sound right now, right?" Lip asks, once again drawing Jacob's attention. 

"Do not speak to me." Jacob replied coolly. "Enough of this. I have work to do." he dropped the Cat's Paw back into his bag and took out another strange contraption. "I have decided to be merciful to you. God would want me to cleanse your corrupted souls before I dispatch you. Free your spirit from the chains of demonic slavery. So I will do just that. Cleanse you of your sins." 

"And how do you plan on doing that, Jacob?" Lip asked, eyebrows raised. "You going to save our souls?" he laughed, his mocking tone evident. 

"I am. I'm going to save your souls, cleanse your spirits through blood. Like my forefathers did during the Inquisition. And don't call me Jacob. My name is Father Michael." He turned toward Ian with the strange metal device in his hand. It was small and oblong shaped, with an intricate metal flower on top. Jacob put the device right in Ian's face and started turning the top. Ian watched with wide eyes as the device opened like a flower blooming. The metal leaves separated, moving out until the thing was spread wide. "This is the pear of anguish, Ian. Specifically designed for sodomites. I will purge your soul of sin, and then I will send you to God to answer for your crimes against His law." 

Ian blanched. He's heard about this torture device. No way in hell this psycho is putting that thing inside him. 

Jacob grabbed Ian by the hips, spinning him around to face the wall. He grabbed Ian by the hair, smashing his face into the brick. Ian grunted, feeling the skin on his nose tear under the pressure. Ian's pulse quickened, his body tight with fear as he started struggling. He kicked his bound feet, trying to wriggle away from Jacob's hands. Jacob pressed Ian's face harder against the wall, and Ian's nose started to bleed again. He could barely breathe, choking on his own blood, drowning in his own fear. 

"Don't fight." Jacob ordered quietly. "It will only make it worse." He gripped Ian by the hair, pulling his head back. Ian groaned in pain, fresh tears streaming down his face. He struggled more, desperate to get away before Jacob could sodomize him with that evil contraption. 

Jacob huffed, clearly irritated by Ian's lack of cooperation. He pulled a concealed knife out of his pocket, jabbing it into Ian's back. Ian wailed, white hot pain tearing through his body. He could feel blood pouring out of the wound with each erratic beat of his thudding heart. It was excruciating, and Ian was afraid he was going to pass out. 

"No!" Lip screamed, desperately pulling at his restraints. "Don't hurt him." 

Jacob dropped the bloodied knife to the ground, grinning. "There, now you'll be compliant, yes? Couldn't just take you penance like a man, you had to struggle. I'm doing you a courtesy, Ian. I will cleanse you of your disgusting sins, and send you to heaven a saved soul." his hand's moved to Ian's belt, and Ian felt like he was going to throw up again. His heart was pounding, his back was throbbing with waves of horrific pain, tears streaming down his face. He can't die like this. Chained up in some filthy basement with a medieval metal dildo up his ass, tearing him open from the inside.

This can't be happening. 

"You did this to yourself, Ian." Jacob says, his voice cold. "You turned your back on God. You chose to be a sodomite. You chose to lay with a demon. My hands are tied." 

Ian sagged against the wall, the cuffs cutting into his wrists. His breath hitched and his eyes burned. All the fight drained out of his body as he realized he was out of options. He was going to die, right now. He was getting woozy, and thought it might just be a blessing if he passed out from blood loss before Jacob got that monstrosity up his ass. 

Mickey's face flashed behind his closed eyes. Ian can't believe he's never going to see him again. Just one more moment, that's all he wants. To tell him how much he loves him, tell him how sorry he is that he ruined everything. Tell him how sad he is that he'll never be able to belong to Mickey the way they both wanted. 

Just as Jacob is about to drag Ian's pants down, a loud noise sounds through the basement. Jacob spins on the spot, turning toward the disturbance. 

Ian's eyes shoot open again, and in that moment he knows they are not alone in the church. His eyes well up with fresh tears, but this time, it's relief flooding his body. Ian doesn't know how he knows, but he is certain. 

He's here. He's found him.

 

***

 

Mickey rounds the final corner and can't believe what he's seeing. 

What the fuck? 

Ian and Lip are hanging from the wall. Their hands chained, dangling from some metal hook on the wall. Lip is bleeding badly, his face the picture of abject terror. Ian's face is pressed up against the brick wall, a priest behind him, his hands on Ian's hips. Mickey sees a Pear of Anguish in the assailant's hand and sees red. 

He's going to destroy this man. 

Mickey's eyes catch on a body on the floor, and he suddenly realizes what is happening here. 

That is Ian and Lip's sister. She's the reason they walked right into their own execution. The priest clearly kidnapped Fiona, using her to lure the Gallagher brothers to their demise. It's admirable that they'd risk their lives for their sister. Stupid, but admirable. 

"You did this to yourself, Ian." the man says, and Mickey's entire body vibrates with rage. "You turned your back on God. You chose to be a sodomite. You chose to lay with a demon. My hands are tied." 

Just as this prick is about to drag Ian's pants down, Mickey strikes. He pulls a small knife from his sock and tosses it expertly. It hits it's mark, burying the blade deep into the meat of the priest's shoulder. 

The man howls in pain, staggering away from Ian. Mickey and Iggy act fast, Iggy running toward the brothers and Mickey going after the stalker. 

The guy pulls Mickey's blade from his back with a hiss before turning toward him, knife out. He grins at Mickey menacingly, but Mickey's not afraid. Fuck this guy. 

"The Milkovich brothers." the man says. "I did not expect you. I thought I'd have to track you down to destroy you, but you came to me. How considerate." 

"Fuck you, asshole." Mickey growled. "I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but the only one dying here tonight is you." 

The man laughed. "Did you hear that, Ian? Your demonic lover is going to kill me." 

Ian watched, horror stricken as Jacob lunged at Mickey, blade first. 

Mickey was too fast for him, however, dodging his attack and rounding on him. He landed a hard punch to his midsection. Jacob doubled over in pain, slashing at Mickey's leg with his knife. Mickey jumped back and the kid took the opportunity to get back on his feet. The circled around each other in the confines of the basement, sizing each other up. 

"Jacob, you don't have to do this." Ian insisted. He leaned his face away as Iggy tore his cuffs free from the wall, sending him sprawling to the floor. Ian landed face first in the dirt, collapsing under the weight of his injury. He struggled to his knees, his hand moving to cover his wound, blood seeping through his fingers. "Please, just stop." 

Mickey turned toward Ian's voice, so damn pleased to see he was more or less in one piece. The Pull surged in Mickey's blood. It wasn't quite right, the feeling still dark and scary, but it was there, and Mickey reveled in it. He was confused, however, by Ian knowing the hunter's name. "You know this prick?" 

"It's complicated." Ian replied, falling back on his ass. He groaned, rubbing his sore wrists before moving to hold his wound again. Iggy freed Lip and gently laid him against the wall. Lip was very hurt, and they needed to get him help, soon. 

"Face me, demon." Jacob demanded. "I am Father Michael, and I will be the last thing you ever see on this plane. You will lose this fight and wake up in hell, where you will suffer unimaginable torment for all eternity." 

Mickey chuckled, pulling his gun out and tossing it to Iggy. " Oh yeah? You think?" Mickey grinned, eyebrows raised. "You here alone, small fry? Cuz the way I see it, you're the one who's gonna be meeting that god you've got such a massive hard on for. Where's your crew?" Iggy glanced at his brother, his question evident in his eyes. Mickey shook his head. He didn't need his gun. He wanted to take this asshole out with his bare hands. 

"I don't need anyone. I can do this on my own. Once this mission is complete, the Guild will see that the Order is a necessary part of our church, and my father will finally be avenged. But first I must cleanse my family of the stain of the Gallaghers of Wallace Street." Jacob rounded on Ian and Lip, who were holding each other, pressed tightly together with Fiona's still unconscious body in their laps. Iggy stood over them protectively, holding the gun on Jacob, who looked wholly unimpressed by the entire situation. 

"Dude, I can do without the fucking soliloquy. Are we gonna dance or what? Look, I even gave my brother my gun. Fair fight, right? Unholy demon versus man of god. I bet this is the kinda shit you jerk off to at night, right, Father Michael?" 

Jacob roared, his face red and his eyes ablaze with rage. He lunged at Mickey, intent on doing damage. Good, that's exactly what Mickey wanted. Get this guy's blood hot, get him emotional and irrational. The more riled up he was, the more likely he was to make a mistake. 

It was clear to Mickey that this guy was a trained fighter. They were dancing around each other, landing punches equally. Iggy was doing exactly what Mickey had asked before they walked in, he's protecting Ian and his family while Mickey does the heavy lifting. 

He wants this prick all to himself. 

Jacob lands a hard punch to Mickey's face, and Mickey stumbles back. He shakes his head, willing away the pain. Mickey doesn't feel pain like normal people, but a fist to the face is still an unpleasant experience. 

Jacob lunges at him, knife out. So much for fighting fair. Although Mickey has advantages of his own. He dodges the knife easily, moving fluidly around Jacob's attack and catching him in the gut with a hard punch. Jacob gasps, staggering backwards. Mickey gives him no room, descending on him with fire in his eyes. 

"You really think you can win this, kid?" Mickey asks, small smile on his lips. "Have you ever killed an Upir? Do you know how?" Mickey hits him again, a hard jab in the ribs. Jacob cries out, hands up. Mickey smirks, dodging yet another swipe with the knife and landing another punch of his own. A vicious right hook send Jacob stumbling, blood flying from his lips. 

Jacob straightens up, slicing at Mickey wildly. He catches Mickey's arm and Mickey hisses, blood pouring out of the wound and staining his shirtsleeve. Jacob takes advantage of his momentary loss of focus, coming at him hard with the knife. He catches Mickey again on the shoulder, and once in the stomach. 

Mickey growls, low and deadly. Ian is holding his siblings tightly, watching this madness unfold with disbelief. How can this be happening? How can Jacob Gallagher be the stalker? Is Ian going to watch Mickey kill his cousin right now? His half-brother? 

Ian discovers with growing horror that he hopes he does witness Mickey kill him. They will never be safe with Jacob in the world. It is clear to Ian that this guy will just keep coming until Ian and Lip are dead. He's already said he'd kill Fiona and the kids too. He's a delusional maniac that thinks he's on a mission from God himself. The only way to end this is with his death. 

Jacob is swinging wildly now, knife out. The blade is covered in blood. Mickey's, Lip's, who knows. Mickey walks around Jacob, watching his movements carefully. This kid has a tell, and Mickey's just waiting for the right moment to strike. 

Jacob moves to the left, swinging on Mickey with the knife again. There it is, that single step to the left before he strikes. Mickey moves fast, his hand shooting out, gripping Jacob's wrist and ripping the blade from his fingers. The knife goes flying and Mickey makes his move. He grabs Jacob by the arm and the wrist, pulling hard, applying as much pressure as his Upir muscles contain. The wet snapping sound of Jacob's arm breaking fill the dank basement. Jacob wails in pain and Ian's heart sinks. It's one thing to make peace with the concept of watching someone die. It's a whole other thing to actually witness it. It's like being back in the woods all over again. Ian standing by helpless as someone dies right in front of him. Even though he knows it has to be done, it's hard to stomach it. He buries his face in Lip's shoulder as the screaming goes on and on. 

Lip grips Ian and Fiona tightly to his chest, but his eyes are glued to the fight. He wishes he were the one beating this shit out of Jacob, but his family needs him, and he's hurt so badly. He doesn't like the idea of Mickey fighting his battles. But he has a feeling Mickey's not doing this for him, not really. 

He's doing this for Ian. 

Lip may have his misgivings about Mickey. He may not want his brother mixed up with him. He is still very afraid Mickey is going to turn his brother, make him Upir like Mickey. Lip would hate to see that happen.  


But Lip has no doubt in his mind that Mickey would do anything in his power to protect his brother, and Lip has to give him credit for that. 

Jacob stumbled backwards, cradling his broken arm. "You bastard spawn of Satan!" he bellows. "I will end you, blood sucker." 

Mickey chuckled darkly, descending on Jacob once more. "You better get right with your god right now, you collared fuck. Because this is the end of the line for you. You fuck with my family, and it's the last thing you ever do." 

"Stay back." Jacob screamed, pulling a hidden twenty-two out of his robe. Mickey wonders idly if those godawful things have pockets. Jacob aims his gun in Ian's general direction. "I'll kill your faggot lover." 

"I'd like to see you try." Mickey replied lowly. His hand shot out, lightning fast, knocking the gun free. It went flying to the floor, landing somewhere under a large wooden trunk. Mickey was on Jacob in an instant, gripping his broken arm tightly, causing the man to cry out again. Mickey wrenched Jacob down to the floor. Jacob fell to his knees in front of Mickey, glaring at him defiantly. 

Mickey grabbed Jacob's head, his fingers digging into the skin of his skull, pulling his hair tight. The priest stares up at him, fiery hatred in his eyes. "I just want you to know, after you are gone, we will go on. Lip will howl at the moon, and I will turn and claim Ian. He will be mine, bonded and mated. Connected forever by the covenant of blood. This little holy act you played at won't matter at all. No one will remember you or your father or the Order in a hundred years. But we are eternal." 

"No, never!" Jacob bellowed, struggling to stand once more. But Mickey was too strong, he held Jacob to the floor easily. His hands moved fast, so fast that Ian almost missed it. If it wasn't for the sickening sound of Jacob's neck snapping, Ian would have missed the entire thing. 

It all felt oddly anticlimactic. 

Mickey pushed Jacob's body away, and it crumpled to the ground like the dead weight it was. Ian just stared at him for a moment. His green eyes, so familiar, gazing right back at him, though all the vitriol had drained from them. His eyes were empty, vacant. 

Jacob Gallagher was no more. 

It was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am not entirely happy with this chapter, but it ended up how i saw it in my head, so there's that. 
> 
> we're approaching the end of this fic, i hope you guys are ready for a little more blood. ;)


	13. The point of no return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the threat is finally neutralized, the group returns to the Milkovich manor to assess the damage and plan their next move. But what is their next move?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we are really close to the end now. i'm going to be sad to see this one end, it was so much fun and i got a lot of positive feedback from you guys while i was writing it. that means a lot. 
> 
> anyway, let's do this thing.

Iggy! Faster!" Mickey screams from the back seat. He's pressing his hands against Lip's wound hard, but the blood just keep coming. 

Lip is grievously injured, and if they don't do something right now, he's going to bleed to death. 

Katie is sitting next to him, inspecting Lip's wounds. She's trained in first aid, which is helpful in this situation since there is no way they can take Lip to a hospital. Mickey is already concocting a plan of action to deal with the dead Order wannabe back at the church. 

Ian's fucking cousin? Seriously? 

It makes perfect sense now, of course. This was the reason they could find no real Order connection. This was the reason they couldn't figure out what the fuck was going on this whole time. It was just some asshole kid with a personal grudge against supernatural creatures. 

Mickey's certain if he hadn't ended that little prick, the Guild would have stepped in and made him disappear. They don't appreciate rouge priests bringing heat to the church, or the clandestine work the Guild does. Of course, now that Jacob's dead, Mickey's going to have to make him disappear himself. 

But, first thing's first. They have to get Lip and Ian fixed up, and decide what to do with their sister, who is luckily still unconscious. 

Mickey glances out the back window of the car, at the second car speeding along behind them. Mandy is driving, Ian in the passenger seat. Mickey can see his face clearly, even through two layers of glass and the stretch of road between them. He can feel Ian's anxiety mingling with his own as they speed toward the manor house. He wishes he could be with Ian right now, but Lip needed his attention. God forbid he didn't make it through this shit alive.

Mickey's not sure when he became so attached to Lip, but he's Ian's brother, so that makes him family. And Mickey takes care of his family. 

"Looks like we've got some very deep lacerations here." Katie murmurs, moving Lip's tattered shirt out of the way to get a better look. He's drenched in blood, moaning quietly while Katie assesses his injuries. "He's gonna need stitches, and maybe a blood transfusion. I don't know if I can do all this back at the house, Mickey." 

Mickey looked back at Katie, taking in her worried expression and the blood all over her face. "We have first aid shit at home, but I don't know where we're gonna get blood. And there's no way in hell we are taking him to a hospital, Kate. How the fuck would you explain this shit?" 

"Besides." Iggy interjects from the driver's seat. "Lip would send up all kinds of red flags. I'm not even talking about his torture wounds and shit, which are fucking suspicious as hell. Werewolves' bodies act differently than regular human bodies. Higher temperatures, faster heart rate, fucking weird blood and shit. If we bring him in, not only will the cops come, but the doctors will wanna put him in some kind of isolation, run tests and shit. We can't afford that kinda heat, and neither can he." 

"I just don't know if I can do it." Katie replied quietly, running her fingers along a deep puncture wound in Lip's side. 

"You can." Mickey insisted. "You can do this, Kate. Werewolves heal fast, all you gotta do it patch him up so he doesn't bleed to death." 

Katie nodded, glancing back down at Lip, who had passed out again. "He's breathing okay, so there's that." 

Mickey grinned, nodding back. Good, they could work with this. 

They could still fix this. 

"What are we gonna do with the sister?" Iggy asks, finally pulling up the long driveway of the country house. He skidded to a stop near the top of the driveway, slamming the car into park and looking back at his brother. 

"I guess we'll just wipe her memory and send her home?" Mickey replied, shrugging. He hadn't thought of Fiona at all since they'd left the church, but she was there, in the other car, with Ian and Mandy. 

Mickey's head was spinning. There was just so much to do. He'd stupidly thought once he neutralized the threat he'd have a moment's peace, but they're obviously not there yet. 

He just had to get over these last few hurdles, and then, maybe, he'd be able to breathe again. 

"You're gonna have to run that shit by your girlfriend, Mick." Iggy replies, swinging open his door and running around to help Mickey with Lip. Katie slid out of the backseat and ran over to Mandy's car, which had just pulled up. 

"Fuck off, Igg. I'll talk to Ian. He'll understand. It's the only way to protect Fiona. The last thing she needs is to know the fucking truth of what happened here today." Mickey said, gripping Lip under the arms and carefully stepping out of the car. "Grab his legs, moron." 

Iggy jumped to do as Mickey asked, wrapping his fingers around Lip's ankles and lifting. Just as they got him out of the car, Ian ran up, Fiona over his shoulder cave man style. 

"Mick, is he okay?" Ian asks, breathless and frightened. He was a mess, covered in blood and dirt. He had cuts and bruises all over his face and body. Mickey's heart broke just looking at him. 

"He's gonna be fine, Ian. Don't worry." Mickey replied. He and Iggy started up the walkway, Lip's body swaying between their hands. 

Ian didn't look convinced, but he kept his mouth shut, following the brothers up the walk. The girls ran up ahead, flying through the front door and splitting up inside. Mandy headed toward the kitchen, Katie up the stairs to the bathroom where the first aid supplies were kept. 

Mickey and Iggy laid Lip down on the sofa. Lip groaned, but didn't open his eyes. Ian placed Fiona in an arm chair by the fireplace, glancing at her with worried eyes. 

"Mick, she won't wake up." Ian said, running his fingers through his sister's hair. 

"Is she bleeding?" Mickey asked over his shoulder. He was focused on getting Lip's shirt off so they could really assess the damage. "Do you see any cuts or stab wounds?" 

Ian blanched at the question, but bent down next to Fiona. He moved her head one way then the other, looking for any cuts. "She's got a pretty bad egg on her head, but it's not bleeding anymore. I don't see any other wounds. Cuts and scrapes, some bruises. But nothing like what Lip has." 

"Good." Mickey replied, stripping Lip's torn jeans, leaving the other man in his bloody boxers. "Now, you, sit down. You're hurt too, Ian." 

"I'm fine." Ian replied tersely. "Lip's the one hurt. And my sister won't wake up. Don't worry about me. Help them." 

Mickey gave Iggy a look, to which his brother nodded, moving around and grabbing the towel out of Mickey's hand. Mickey stood from his spot next to Lip and made his way over to Ian, just as the girls came back into the room with the necessary supplies. Katie and Mandy immediately went to Lip's aid, Iggy assisting as best he could. 

Mickey stopped in front of Ian, glancing up at him as he slid his hands into Ian's hair tenderly. Seeing Ian bloody and hurt is breaking Mickey's heart. He was supposed to take care of Ian. He was supposed to protect him. If Mickey hadn't gotten to him exactly when he had, Ian would be dead right now. 

"I can't lose you." Mickey says quietly. Ian stares down at him, fresh tears welling in his eyes. 

"Mick, I'm going to be okay." Ian replies, his voice cracking. Mickey is looking at him with so much adoration, Ian's heart feels like it's going to burst. Mickey pulls him toward an empty chair on the other side of the room. The girls and Iggy are working to stitch up Lip's wounds, wrapping his chest in bandages and slathering ointment on his scrapes, but Mickey ignores all that. To him, the only thing that exists in the moment is Ian. 

The Pull throbs in his chest. Mickey is delighted to find that Ian's energy has returned to normal. That bright, buoyant, fucking beautiful frisson crackling between them. Mickey revels in it, letting it wash over him in waves of exquisite pleasure. He falls to his knees in front of Ian, his hands on Ian's hips. He looks up at Ian, basking in their shared connection. Their eyes lock and Ian smiles down at him as he reaches up and runs his bruised fingers through Mickey's hair. Mickey leans into the touch, unable to get close enough.

"You didn't lose me." Ian replies quietly. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." 

"No, you don't understand." Mickey insists, gripping Ian's hips tightly. "I can't lose you ever, Ian. Not tonight, and not in sixty years. I can't be without you." 

Ian's eyes widened, his hand stilling on the back of Mickey's head. His body breaks out in goosebumps, a tiny thrill shooting down his spine. His heart is pounding in his chest, and his eyes start to water once more. 

No way. 

"Mick, what are you saying?" Ian asks, breathless. 

"I meant what I said, back at the church. To that asshole hunter priest. I want you to be mine, Ian. I want to claim you, I want us to be bonded through blood. If you'll have me, Ian, I will become your maker." Mickey can't believe he just said that. He promised himself not too long ago that he'd never turn Ian. He's been promising himself for decades that he'd never turn a person, period. 

But Ian is just...Ian. He's Mickey's mate. Mickey's not one to believe in things like destiny, but the appearance of Ian in his life has proven to Mickey that there are still many things in this world he does not understand. 

What he does understand is that there is something very powerful between him and his human lover, and Mickey will do anything in his power to keep it. He will do whatever it takes to protect it. And the most natural way to do that is to make Ian like him. 

None of his old rules matter anymore. All that matters is Ian. 

"Mick." Ian says, his voice wavering. Ian's whole body is hot, his head swimming. He feels like he dropped E or some shit. It's the Pull, pounding like a heartbeat between them. Ian reaches for Mickey, and Mickey stands on his knees, falling against Ian's chest. The embrace is awkward, with Mickey on his knees and Ian leaning over him in the chair, but Ian wouldn't want it any other way. Just holding him feels incredible. It's perfection.

It's all he wants.   
It's all he'll ever want.   
Mickey is all he'll ever want.

"Don't say anything yet." Mickey says, confusing Ian. Ian pulls back, giving Mickey a curious look. "I need you to think about it, Ian. Really think about it." 

Ian opens his mouth to retort, but just Iggy grabs his attention. "Mick, Lip's all patched up. Katie says we may not have to give him blood after all. So what now?" 

Mickey gives Ian a small smile, kissing him quickly before standing from the floor and moving toward the couch. "Let's put him in the front bedroom." Mickey decides, moving toward the couch. 

"Why do we always end up carting this asshole around?" Iggy groused, gripping Lip under his arms while Mickey took his feet. 

"We do what we have to, Iggy." Mickey replies simply. He's not in the mood for his brother's mouth right now. Iggy was a rock star today, helping Mickey with his Jacob problem, but that didn't mean Mickey was too keen on listening to him complain all night. 

"What about her?" Mandy asks, pointing to Fiona. 

Shit, Mickey forgot all about her. Again.

"We're gonna have to put her in the back bedroom." Mickey said, lifting Lip from the couch. He and Iggy started walking him slowly toward the staircase, Mickey talking to his sister over his shoulder the whole way. "That one has a lock on the door. So we don't have to tie her to the bed." with that, Iggy and Mickey were up the stairs and out of sight. 

"Now you, Ian." Katie said, patting the couch cushions next to her. 

"I'm fine." Ian replied, his eyes searching for Mickey at the top of the stairs. "Why do they have to lock Fi in?" he asks Mandy. 

"Come sit, Ian." Mandy insists, leaving no room for argument. Ian huffs but complies, sitting between the two girls on the couch. Katie immediately starts cleaning Ian's cuts with alcohol wipes. Ian hissed, pulling away, but Katie gripped him by the chin and held him still. 

"Don't fidget." Katie ordered quietly. Ian would roll his eyes, but one of them is swollen shut, so instead he just huffs again. 

"Mandy, why do they have to lock Fi in?" Ian asks again after a few moments of silence. Katie is stitching up a cut over his eye, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the pinch. He breathes slowly through his mouth, since his nose is also busted. 

He's not looking forward to when Katie has to set it. 

"We need to make sure she doesn't try to run before we can fix her." Mandy replies absentmindedly as she washes some cuts on Ian's forearms with a warm washcloth. 

"Fix her?" Ian turns toward Mandy, but Katie only pulls him back to face her. 

"Ian, stitches. Don't. Fidget."

Ian stiffens, but does as he's told. 

"Mandy, what are you going to do to my sister?" Ian insists. 

"Nothing, Ian." Mandy assures him. "Remember when she came here? All fire and brimstone? Wanting to drag you back home?" 

"Yeah." Ian replied, confused. He hissed when Katie tied off the stitch, snapping the thread. 

"Remember when Mick mesmerized her? That's what we'll have to do. It's better for everyone involved, especially your sister, if she doesn't remember a damn thing that happened." 

"Yeah, I guess." Ian replied. Mandy has a point. He has no idea how he'd explain this fiasco to his sister. It's better if she doesn't know. 

Ian wonders for a moment how he'd ever be able to explain himself to Fiona if Mickey does turn him. How would that work? Would Ian need to leave and never come back? Would he be able to do that to stay with Mickey forever. 

Ian's thoughts are interrupted when Katie starts poking at his nose. 

"Ah, fuck." Ian spat, jerking back.

"What did I say about fidgeting?" Katie responded, standing. "You're going to want to let me do this, Ian. A face like yours is too pretty for a crooked nose." 

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Kate." Ian replied tiredly as Katie moved to stand behind him. 

"Listen." she says, setting her forearms on his shoulders and putting her hands on his face from behind. "Don't move while I do this. I need you to be completely still. Take a deep breathe." she pressed her fingers to his nose, pushing just enough to send pain shooting into his brain. Ian inhaled deeply, letting the breath out slowly. "Ready, one, two..." with that, she applied heavy pressure on Ian's nose with both hands. The wet snapping sound of Ian's bones popping back into alignment echoed through the room and Ian groaned. Katie covered his face with both her hands for a moment, waiting until Ian's breathing had returned to normal before stepping away. 

"Done." Katie smiles, patting Ian's cheek gently. "Go upstairs and get some rest. I'm pretty sure someone is waiting for you." she grins, standing from the couch. 

Mandy ruffles Ian's hair, smiling at him. "Glad you're going to be okay, Ian. That was a close one. I don't even want to think of what would happen to Mickey if...." she let the sentence hang unfinished, giving Ian another bright smile. "Anyway. I'm going to bed. You comin' Kate?" 

"Yeah, I'm just gonna clean up this stuff first." Katie pointed to the first aid kit. 

"Need help?" Mandy asks, running her fingers through Katie's hair. 

"No, I'm good, thank you." Katie replies, giving Mandy a little grin. Mandy nodded, moving toward the stairs. 

Once Ian and Katie were alone, Ian moved to stand too. He was surprised when Katie's hand wrapped around his wrist. He glanced over at her, confused. Katie just smiled. 

"Do you know why I refuse every time Mandy offers to turn me?" Katie asks, surprising Ian. Ian just stares at her for a minute, confused. He finally shakes his head. 

"Her and her brothers think it's because I love my God more than her, but that's not it. I love her dearly, she's been very special to me since I was very young. I refuse to let her change me because I know deep down she doesn't love me. Not the way I'd need her to for me to turn my back on my beliefs. She cares, I know. But not enough to see us through an eternity together." 

Ian nodded, his eyes shifting toward the staircase again. Where Mickey was waiting for him. 

"I tell you this Ian because I know what Mickey wants from you. I know we don't really know each other, but I just want you to know, just because it's not right for me, doesn't mean it won't be right for you." 

"What?" Ian asks, confused once more.

"Ian, I've been around this family a very long time. You may not know this, but I'm thirty seven years old. I've known Mandy and her brothers for well over twenty years now, and I've never seen any of them act the way Mickey does with you. He's like a totally different person from the man I've known for decades. Call it the Pull. Call it Fated Mates. Call it whatever you want. But no matter what you call it, you don't turn your back on it. God put us on this earth to love others as He loves us. And if you have a chance to do that forever, you should take it, Ian. It's a beautiful thing, and you are blessed to have it." 

Ian stared at Katie, open-mouthed and shocked. This is by far the longest conversation they'd ever had, and Ian didn't know how to respond. 

It didn't seem like Katie was waiting for a response, however. She patted his hand, smiling as she stood from the couch. She moved around the living room, cleaning up the first aid supplies and bloody rags. 

"Go to bed, Ian. You need to rest." Katie called over he shoulder. Ian stood from the couch, moving toward the stairs. He paused on the bottom step, turning back toward the living room. 

"Thank you, Kate." he said. "For everything." 

Katie turned, smiling. "Any time, my friend." 

With that, Ian took the stairs as fast as his sore body would allow. 

Someone was waiting for him. 

 

***

 

Mickey was sitting on the bed, smoking a cigarette when Ian came in. He looked up, taking in the busted face and bruised body of his lover. 

His mate. 

Mickey's heart sank as he stood from the bed, stubbing out his cigarette and making his way over to Ian quickly. Now that the chaos of the fight had dissipated, Mickey felt drained in a way he hasn't in decades. 

It's over. The fight with the stalker, the danger to Ian and his family. The fear. The unknown. All of it is done. 

Now all that's left is the mess to clean up. 

Mickey stood in front of Ian, taking in his swollen eyes and the blood still crusted under his nose. He reached up slowly, gently running his fingers through Ian's dirty, matted hair. 

"C'mon." Mickey says, interlacing their fingers and leading Ian out of the bedroom and down the hall. 

Ian said nothing as he followed Mickey toward the back of the house. The bathroom door was open and Mickey led Ian inside, shutting and locking the door behind them. 

"You're a mess." Mickey said softly, gripping the hem of Ian's tattered t shirt and pulling it up over his head. Ian let Mickey undress him, stepping out of his jeans and boxers. He stood, naked, while Mickey filled the tub in silence. 

Once the bathtub was full of steaming hot water, Ian let Mickey maneuver him into the water. It felt so good on his sore skin, Ian almost cried with relief. 

Mickey knelt down next to the tub, using a small cup from the lip of the tub to wet Ian's hair. It reminds Ian of when he was very small, and Fiona used to bathe him. Ian closes his eyes, lets Mickey do whatever he wants. 

It's silent between them as Mickey scrubs his hair, carefully cleans the dry blood from around his wounds. Katie did a good job fixing him up, but Mickey needs to do this. For Ian. 

He was careful to avoid the bandages on Ian's face, cupping his hand along his forehead as he washed the shampoo out of his hair. He grabbed up a washcloth and starting softly scrubbing Ian's tender back. He had long welt along his shoulder blades, like that asshole priest whipped him or something. 

"I'm so sorry, Ian." Mickey's quiet words broke through the silence between them. Ian turned in the tub, glancing at Mickey over his shoulder. 

"You saved my life, Mickey. You have nothing to be sorry for." 

Mickey sighed, dragging the cloth along Ian's ribs. Ian hissed, and Mickey's heart broke. 

"I shoulda gotten there sooner. I shoulda protected you." Mickey huffed, angry with himself. "This never should have happened." 

"Mick, it's over now. Lip and Fiona are going to be fine. I'm not even hurt that badly. You saved my family from certain death. How can you feel like you let me down?" 

Mickey sighed, running the cloth along Ian's neck and shoulders. God, he was gorgeous, even all cut up. Ian was fucking perfect. 

"I just cant... I don't ever want to see you hurt, Ian. I can't deal with that." 

"Is that what changed your mind about turning me?" Ian asks, staring at his pruny fingers under the surface of the water. "Because you don't want me to get hurt anymore?" 

"No, Ian." Mickey replied, dropping the washcloth on the ledge of the tub and gripping Ian's shoulders in both hands. "I want to change you because I'm a selfish Upir asshole who can't fathom an eternity without his Fated Mate. I could tell you it's because I want to protect you. And I do. I will make it my life's purpose to keep you safe and happy. But the true reason I want to make you Upir is because the thought of suffering through countless lifetimes without you is just fucking unbearable." Mickey cleared his throat, standing. He handed Ian a towel. "C'mon. You're gonna catch a god damn chill if you stay in there any longer." 

Ian let Mickey help him out of the tub and back to their room. He stood silently while he let Mickey dry him off and help him into some boxers. He was quiet as Mickey measured out his nighttime meds, handing them to him one by one, and offering him a glass of water to swallow them down. He remained quiet while Mickey tucked him into the bed and shed his own clothes, slipping under the covers and falling easily into Ian's open arms. 

The quiet stretched for some time, until Ian finally spoke. 

"So what do we do next?" Ian asks, running his fingers idly along Mickey's bare shoulder. Mickey tucked his face into Ian's chest, inhaling deeply. 

He'd miss Ian's scent if he changed him. That warm, spicy, alive part of Ian that drew Mickey to him to begin with. That scent would be just a memory once Ian was turned. 

That thought saddened Mickey. 

"Well, first we have to wipe Fiona's memory, figure out our cover story. Get her home safe and unaware that any of this bullshit went down. Then we'll have to go back to that godforsaken church, do something with Jacob's body. I was thinking about just disappearing him, but the Guild would be suspicious, I'm sure. Maybe fake a suicide? I don't know, I'll talk to Iggy about it in the morning. Then we should probably stock up on some more first aid shit for your brother. I'm not sure what Werewolves need, but antibiotics couldn't hurt. I'll get in contact with an ER doctor with a blood fetish. Friend of Iggy's, if you can believe that. Then I'm going to have to call up Jake, give him a head's up about that bullshit with your cousin. He can keep tabs on the investigation for us, make sure the suicide isn't questioned." Mickey's thoughts were going a mile a minute, so much shit to do, so many loose ends to tie up.

It never ended. He always had to be on top of it all. He could never lose focus, never get complacent. 

"No, Mick." Ian said, smile evident in his tone. "I mean, what do we do next, for us." 

Mickey pulled back the slightest bit, locking eyes with Ian. Ian had this soft, loving expression on his face, and Mickey could feel the Pull gaining steam inside him, pulsing outward, threatening to swallow him whole. He ran his hand along Ian's stomach, careful to avoid the plethora of abrasions dotting his perfect, pale torso. 

"I told you to think about it, Ian. It's a big fucking deal. I know your brother will have some shit to say." 

"Fuck Lip's opinion, Mick. This is about me and you. We belong together. I know it, and you know it. This thing between us, it's bigger than me or you or any stupid ancient supernatural magnetism. I love you, Mick. I've never felt this way before in my life, and I know I never will again. I don't want to be without you, ever. And the thought of growing old while you stay the same just fucking kills me." Ian reached up, running his hand along the side of Mickey's face, gripping him by the back of the neck. "Could you do it? Watch me die? Or let me go? If I walked out of this house tomorrow and told you to never talk to me again, what would you do?" 

Mickey stared up into Ian's eyes, the Pull swelling in his chest, overtaking him completely. 

"I'd die." Mickey replied simply. 

Ian's eyes softened, the sting of tears burning in his green irises. Mickey reached up, wiping a single tear away. He smiled at Ian, though it didn't reach his eyes. 

"I know what would happen to me. That's not the issue here at all. I'm not worried about going mad or wasting away. I'm not worried about being taken out by monster hunters or the church or anyone else that would do me harm. None of that shit matters to me. You, Ian. You are what matters."

"Then why are we even discussing this?" Ian asks, confused. He pulled Mickey closer, their bare chest touching. Ian leaned down, kissing Mickey softly. Mickey hummed in the back of his throat, smiling against Ian's lips. Ian took the invitation for what it was, licking into Mickey's mouth languidly. 

They kissed for some time, slow and steady. No rush, no destination. Just gentle presses of lips and sweet swipes of their tongues. 

Finally, Mickey pulled away. He rested his forehead against Ian's, staring into his eyes. "When I asked you to think about this Ian, I didn't mean for you to just think about us. It's clear that we belong together, through fate or destiny, whatever. It's a very rare, very powerful thing, to be Fated Mates. I don't even know what that would be like, since no one I know has ever witnessed it. I'm sure it would be incredible, especially with you." 

"Then why are you still so hesitant, after all you said today. Did you mean it?" 

Mickey sighed, pushing Ian to lay against the pillows and resting his head on his bare chest. "I did. I meant every word. But it's not my decision to make. It's yours. I know it would be amazing to claim you, Ian. But it's not just about us. You would have to leave your family, at some point. No one could ever know, save for Lip of course. How would you explain to Fiona that you are leaving, never to return?" 

"Would I really have to do that?" Ian asks quietly, his heart sinking. 

"Well, yeah. There's no way you could explain to her how years go by and yet you never age. I mean, we could return for a visit, but we'd have wipe her memory every single time. That can be very dangerous, and there's no telling what long lasting effects it could have on her fragile human psyche. But even if we found away to make that work, at some point, she will die. Your younger siblings will all die. Even Lip, who will live decades longer than a regular human, will grow old and die at some point. Everyone and everything you've ever known will be nothing but a memory. But you will go on, forever. I'll be with you, and my siblings. You will be part of our clan, bonded and mated for eternity. But none of that can replace your true family, Ian." 

Ian sighed, curling his arms around Mickey's back and pulling him tight to his chest. His eyes burned with fresh tears as his mind spun with all this information. 

After a long moment of silence between them, Mickey pulled back and turned off the light before settling down in Ian's embrace again. He spoke into the darkness, his lips brushing Ian's earlobe. 

"This is it, Ian. We've reached the point of no return. You know where I stand. Regardless of bonding or mating, I belong to you, completely. You are my mate, I am tied to you for all eternity. I love you, but what I feel for you goes well beyond love. I'm yours, Ian. I've been yours since before you were born, and I'll be yours long after we are both gone from this world. But it's up to you. I won't ever push you to do anything you aren't sure of. And I won't ever hold it against you if you can't do it. My love for you has no limits, no caveats or rules. No terms, no stipulations. You do whatever feels right to you, and I will accept it and support you. So sleep on it, and we'll talk more in the morning." 

Ian just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He laid a gentle kiss to Mickey's hair before laying his head against the pillows. 

Ian laid in the dark for a long time. Mickey was actually asleep, which was a rare occurrence. He must have really depleted himself during the fight with Jacob. Ian held him close, running his fingers along the smooth, cool skin of his back. 

Mickey might think it's a big, confusing decision for Ian to make, but he's wrong. 

Mickey might think they've only now reached the point of no return. But Ian was there and shot past it a long time ago. 

He'd passed the point of no return the first moment he felt Mickey's touch. The first press of his lips, the first bite of his teeth. The first moment Ian felt Mickey's energy, pulsing between them like a tangible thing, his utter adoration for Ian taking on a life of it's own. Ian was done the moment he heard Mickey talk about their shared connection. Ian was well past the point of walking away. 

Not that he'd even want to. 

Yes, it would be hard to separate himself from his family, but he knew it had to be done. 

Because a life without Mickey was no life at all. Not anymore. 

There was no question. Ian had no other option. He wanted this. Forever with Mickey. 

Bonded. Mated. Upir. With the one person in the world meant just for him. 

Ian smiled, finally feeling the pull of sleep. Secure in his decision, he settled into bed next to Mickey, curling around his smaller body and letting the Pull that swirled between them lull him into a sweet sleep full of dreams of his dark haired, enigmatic, eternal lover.


	14. The last steps of a long journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian makes a life altering decision. Lip refuses to let him go it alone. Mickey is just glad he's finally within reach of his end goal: Ian, forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long. i am still not quite well, suffering from chronic pain and other undesirable shit. but if you know me, you know nothing's going to keep me from writing. it may just take longer than i'd like to get it outta my head and into the world. thanks for you patience.

Ian shoots up in bed, his chest heaving. He's sweaty, and the taste of fresh tears is on his lips. The remnants of the nightmare still fresh in his mind. 

But...that screaming was very real. He reached for Mickey in the dark, but the bed next to him was empty. 

Oh shit.  
What now?

Ian sprung from the bed, skidding on the hardwood floor as he groped for his sweats in the dark. He could see the sun peaking through Mickey's black out curtains, but the sliver of light dancing along the floor did little to illuminate Ian's way. He stumbled toward the door, flinging it open and squinting in the bright morning sunlight. 

The hallway was empty. But the screaming was still going strong.

Fiona. 

Ian would know her voice anywhere. 

Ian darted down the hallway, toward the back bedroom where Mickey and Iggy had deposited his sister mere hours ago. 

Everyone in the house was crowded around the door to the room. Mandy and Kate and Iggy standing in the narrow doorway. Ian shoved them out of the way, clamoring into the room clumsily. 

There on the bed, being held down by Mickey and Lip, was Fiona. She was thrashing and yelling, back bowing off the bed as she struggled against their hold. 

She looked fucking possessed.

Ian would have been shocked by how healthy Lip looked, if not for the fact that he had his older sister pinned to the bed like a mental patient. That pretty much too precedent over anything else. 

"Fiona, Fiona. Look at me." Mickey's calm, soothing voice breaks through the cacophony of noise. She stops screaming, her body going limp as she stares into Mickey's deep blue eyes, instantly hypnotized. 

Her face goes lax, her eyes laser focused on Mickey as he nods gently and smiles down at her. "Good, much better." he murmurs. 

They don't release her, however. Ian hovers nearby, watching with wide eyes as Mickey and Lip kept his older sister pinned to the bed hard. Her breathing slowed, and she blinked up at Mickey with dopey, clouded eyes. 

"You are so very tired." Mickey said, his voice low, melodic. "You can't keep your eyes open." 

Fiona's eyes slipped closed and a small smile splits her chapped lips. 

"Good. That's good, Fiona." Mickey murmured. "You had a nightmare. A scary one. But it's better now. You're going to wake up in your own bed and everything will be just fine, okay?" 

Fiona hummed sleepily, falling completely under Mickey's spell and into uninterrupted sleep. 

Mickey backed off and Lip followed suit. For a moment, everyone just stood around, watching Fiona sleep the sleep of the innocent. 

Finally, Mickey turned to Ian, giving him a reassuring smile. "We gotta get her back to your house. Once she's there, she'll think yesterday was just a bad dream. Do you think anyone would have noticed she was gone?" 

Ian shook his head, still a little confused. He glanced at his brother. Lip shrugged.

"I don't think so." Lip said. "We all mostly do our own thing these days. She comes and goes as she pleases, sometimes doesn't come home for a night or two." 

"Good, that's good." 

"What about her injuries?" Ian asks, taking in Fiona's cuts and bruises. She looked like she'd been in a fist fight.

"Well..." Mickey considered, running his hand through his hair.

"I have an idea." Lip said, his tone dire. Ian locked eyes with his brother, confused. Lip shrugged again. "Why don't we just litter her bedroom with liquor bottles? She'll think she went on a bender and blacked out." 

Ian grimaced. "Oh, that's so mean, Lip." 

"I know, Ian." Lip spat back. "But it's better than telling her the truth, or having your boyfriend here melt her brain any more than he already has." 

"It's not brain melting." Mickey sighed, moving on instinct to Ian's side. He slipped his fingers between Ian's, the welcome warmth of his skin soothing Mickey immediately. "But he's right. It's not good to mesmerize people too much. It can affect her mood, give her strange thoughts." 

"So this blackout drunk shit is really our best bet?" Ian groaned, sickened by the idea of gaslighting his sister like this. 

"Yeah, Ian. It really is." Mandy interjected. Ian looked around the room to see all the other people waiting for his consent. Ian sighed, hanging his head. 

"Fine. Let's just do it then." 

Mickey nodded and immediately started barking out orders to everyone else in the room. 

"We're leaving as soon as this is done. Pack your shit and get it in the Denali. We won't be coming back here for quite some time." Mickey said. Everyone else dispersed, moving throughout the house to prepare for the trip. 

Lip and Ian hung back with their sister and Mickey. 

"And where do you plan on taking this traveling circus next?" Lip asks, pulling a cigarette out of his pack and lighting it. 

"We have a house in Massachusetts." Mickey replied, utterly discontented when Ian moved away from him to sit on the bed next to his unconscious sister. Ian was looking at Fiona like she'd disappear if he wasn't watching her. 

"We're not going to fucking Massachusetts, man." Lip said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "We live here, in Illinois." 

"And that's up to you." Mickey said, crossing his arms over his chest. "If you want to stay here, continue to be a danger to your family. Pretend your whole life, never be able to get close to anyone else. That's fine by me. But...." he looked over, locking eyes with Ian. "What your brother does with his life is up to him." 

Ian blanched, glancing from Fiona to Mickey and back again. 

Shit. 

Lip opened his mouth to argue the point, but Mickey put a hand up, cutting him off. 

"We can talk about this more after we drop her off." Mickey decided, moving to lift Fiona off the bed. "One of you grab her legs, we'll put her on the couch downstairs until we're ready to leave." 

Lip huffed, but moved to grab Fiona's feet. The two men worked together to get Fiona out of the room and down the stairs, Ian trailing behind them, feeling confused and lost all of the sudden. 

What now? 

 

***

 

Mickey laid Fiona down in her bed, pulling the covers up over her body. Ian and Lip came into the room, holding empty liquor bottles and beer cans. They started spreading them around the room, trying to recreate a haphazard party environment. 

Fiona groaned, rolling over on her side and tucking her face into a pillow. 

"You sure she's going to be okay?" Ian asked quietly. 

"Positive." Mickey assured him. He moved to his side, sliding his arm around Ian's middle. "I've been doing this for decades, Ian. There are no permanent side effects, as long as it's not a common occurrence." 

Ian nodded, motioning for them to leave the room. He closed the door behind them with a click. The three men stood in the hallway, just watching each other for a moment. 

Finally Ian nodded, mostly to himself, and moved toward his own bedroom. 

"Ian, where are you going?" Lip asks, hot on his brother's trail. Mickey had a feeling he knew what Ian was up to, but he was going to leave it up to his mate to explain. He followed behind the brothers, leaning up against the door casing while Ian and Lip squared off in the middle of Ian's bedroom. 

"I'm packing, Lip. What does it look like?" Ian replied, pulling his old ROTC duffel bag out from under his bed. He started pulling clothes out of his draws, tossing them toward his open bag. 

"Ian." Lip said, glancing toward Mickey before stepping closer to his brother and lowering his voice. "You can't be serious." he whispered. "You can't just leave your life behind." 

Ian sighed, dropping a green tank top on the bed before turning toward his brother. "Lip, I've made my choice. I'm sorry if you can't understand that, but I want to be with Mickey." 

Mickey grinned, but decided to give the brothers some privacy. He wandered into the hallway, leaning up against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He could still hear them, of course, but at least he wasn't watching them. 

"Ian, your life is here." Lip said, moving to sit on the bed. Ian didn't look up, just kept moving around the space, grabbing his most valued possessions and tossing them in his bag. 

"My life is wherever I make it, Lip." Ian said. "And I want to make it with Mickey." 

"Ian, you can't mean that. He's not even a person." 

Ian sighed. Not this tired bullshit again. "Then what are you, Lip?" 

"It's not the same. I didn't choose this. You have a choice, and you're making the wrong one." 

Ian was getting angry now. He knows Lip means well, but Ian is fucking tired of everyone always telling him what's best for him. He's tired of Lip trying to tell him how to live his life. 

"So what do you suggest, Lip?" Ian spat, tossing his favorite pants to the bed and getting up in his brother's face. "You think I should walk away from someone that loves me? Wants to be with me literally forever, for what? A dead end life here on the south side? Maybe meet some guy, but no one that will ever love me as much as Mick does. I'll finish school, get a boring job. Join a fucking book club, get a collie? Go to Chicago Pride every year, maybe adopt a Chinese baby?" 

"What's wrong with that shit?" Lip asks, eyes imploring. 

"Nothing is wrong with it." Ian said, smiling sadly. "It's just not what I want. I want Mickey." 

"But Ian, you'll have to leave and never come back. You'll never see Fiona or the family ever again." 

"That's not exactly true." Mickey said, walking back into the room. He had wanted to give the brothers a private moment to discuss this, but some things needed to be clarified, clearly. "We can come back. I can work on my mesmerization . I can teach you too, Ian, when I turn you. It's complex, but it can be done. We'll have to do a lot of research and practice, but I think it's possible to convince Fiona's mind that you are aging, as time goes on. Like a glamour of sorts. She'll see you as you are, but her mind will supply and older version of you. Same goes for the rest of your family, friends, whatever. It's like an illusion. If that makes sense." 

Mickey has never tried a mesmerization that complex, but for Ian, he'd do anything. So if that's what he needed, Mickey would make it happen. 

"Wouldn't it just be easier for us to stay here, and actually age?" Lip interjected, irritated. 

"Who says you'd be aging normally?" Mickey rounded on him. "Did you pay attention to any of those texts you poured over at the house? Werewolves live exceptionally long lives. You won't look thirty for twenty five more years. How are you going to explain that to Fiona?" 

Lip glared at Mickey, but said nothing. The bloodsucker had a point. 

"Listen. I know it's hard." Mickey sighed, leaning over to run his hand along Ian's spine, needing the contact. "Leaving everything you've ever known. But we just need a bit of time to acclimate after Ian's turn, and then we can come back and visit, okay? He's going to need to learn how to live as an Upir, how to interact with people again, how to control his new powers and integrate them into his life. It will take some time before he's going to be able to walk among regular people again, control his thirst. Y'know, without flying off the handle and draining everyone in a five mile radius." 

Lip scoffed. "And this is what you want, Ian?" 

"It's not just for Ian's benefit, Philip." Mickey said, raising and irritated eyebrow. "There's a collective of sorts up in the Berkshire mountains. My family does not associate with them, but we've reached some sort of armistice with them over the years. We coexist in the same area, each doing our own thing. We cover for each other in time of need. We protect the collective's secret, and they protect my clan's secret, from outsiders. 

"Collective?" Lip asked, confusion coloring his tone. 

"Werewolves, Philip." Mickey sighed. "A pack of werewolves." 

"Really?" Lip's face lit up, unable to hide his excitement. The thought of being around people like him, learning from people who have lived it. Seeing it in action instead of reading it from a book. The idea was enticing. 

"Yes, really." Mickey nodded, amused by Lip's change in demeanor. "Like I said, we're not exactly friends, but we are allies, against the wider world. We protect each other's secret, for the benefit of everyone. Supernatural creatures really do need to stick together these days." 

"And we could really come back?" Ian asks, unable to mask his own excitement. 

"Yes, Ian. We really could." Mickey turned Ian in his arms, laying his hands on Ian's neck. "Like I said, it will take time, and some work, but I honestly believe we can make this work. If you still want this." 

"I do." Ian whispered, dipping his head down for a kiss. He pulled Mickey tight against his body, licking into his mouth hungrily. Mickey made an animalistic sound, almost like a hiss, as he sunk his fingers into Ian's hair and kissed him hard enough to bruise. 

"Eh, fuck off with that shit." Lip groused, making a face. "Fine, whatever. I guess we're doing this. I'm going to pack. Keep your dicks in your pants." he turned away from the couple and towards his own bedroom to pack.

Ian giggled, feeling almost high. The Pull pulsed in his blood, singing out, surging toward Mickey like a wave. Ian was feeling the Pull more and more each day. And he knew what that meant.

This was it. This was the rest of his life. 

Or the end of his life. Depending on how you looked at it. 

But Ian was going to focus on the positive. He had someone that loved him deeply. His family was safe and whole. He wasn't going to have to abandon them after all. And Lip may just find some people like him, so he won't have to go this all alone, in the middle of a vampire nest. 

Ian's life is like the plot of a comic book. 

But he finds he wouldn't want it any other way. 

"C'mon. Pack." Mickey grinned, patting Ian's cheek. "The rest of those assholes are waiting in the car. And we've got a fuck of a long drive ahead of us." 

Ian smiled, nodding. He kissed Mickey once more, quickly, and got back to packing. 

He had places to be. 

 

***

 

The ride is long, and excruciatingly boring. Thirteen hours in the SUV, never deviating from I-90. The terrain was a dull, never changing landscape of trees and streams, followed by dense forests and mountains the closer they got to the east coast. Ian drifted in and out of sleep for hours, the soft melody of the radio lulling him into a state of half consciousness for hours at a time. 

He jerked awake when the car came to a halt, his eyes snapping open as his fists came up to defend against a blow that never came. 

He sighed, blinking slowly. He wondered when that would stop. That edginess, that sketchiness. Every time he woke up, he could barely breathe, stuck in that dank church basement for a split second before he came back to himself. 

It was unsettling. 

"Hey, you okay back there?" Mickey asks, eyeing Ian in the rear-view mirror. 

Ian nodded, hesitant. He glanced over at his brother who was still out for the count. Iggy was in the cargo hold of the truck, his feet kicked up as he read some comic book about superhuman teenager vigilantes. 

The girls were cuddled in the front, sharing a seat meant for one person. Mandy on Katie's lap, since it wouldn't really effect her at all if she went flying through the windshield after a collision. Ian watched them, his brow furrowed in curiosity. Katie was crying, Mandy was shushing her, running her fingers through her hair, wiping away her tears with gentle fingers. 

Ian sat up, rubbing his eyes. Only then did he notice the car was parked. They were stopped in front a large building, on a busy road, in the middle of some city Ian didn't recognize. 

"Mick, what's going on?" 

Mickey sighed, turning in his seat so he and Ian were eye to eye. "We're dropping Kate off." 

"What?" 

"This is as far as I go, Ian." Katie said, glancing up at him in the rear-view mirror. He face was tear-stained and swollen. "I have a place here, at this shelter of sorts. Abused women, ex nuns, addicts, homeless women. It's kind of a catch all for the world's forgotten women. I think this is where I belong." 

"Oh." Ian said, unsure of what else to say. 

"You don't have to do this." Mandy whispered, laying her hand tenderly on Katie's cheek. 

"I do, though." Katie replied quietly. 

Ian sat back against the seat, feeling like this conversation is not for his ears. He glanced over at Mickey, who was staring out the window, giving the illusion of privacy to the girls. 

"You know the longer we play this game, the harder it's going to be to say goodbye, hun." Katie said, voice wavering. "I can't follow you to the mountains. I can't live there with you while Ian goes through the change. I can't watch that." 

Ian felt his face flush hot as his stomach dropped. Was this his fault? Was Katie leaving because of him? Because of his choice to let Mickey turn him? 

He felt awful. 

"I know." Mandy sighed, pulling Katie tight to her chest. "I know. It's okay. I'll miss you, though. I always miss you." 

"Me too." Katie breathed. "But it's not goodbye forever. You know you'll never get rid of me." 

Mandy laughed wetly, smiling as she pulled Katie into a sorrowful kiss. Ian glanced away, staring out the window as the women had their emotional goodbye. 

Mickey took that as his cue to exit the car and moved toward the hatch to retrieve Katie's bags. He hadn't known Katie had planned to abandon the group in Syracuse, but he can't say he's surprised either. 

This life was never for her. 

"Iggy, get the fuck up. Kate needs her shit." 

Iggy grumbled, tossing his comic aside and wriggling out of the storage space so Katie could take her few possessions and move toward the house. Mandy engulfed her in yet another bruising hug on the sidewalk, clinging to her desperately. 

Mickey averted his eyes. Let them have this moment. 

Soon, Katie was gone. Into that house and out of their lives, for the time being anyway. 

She always found her way back, eventually. 

 

***

 

Mickey pulled the car into an empty space in a nearly deserted parking lot. They were in a rest area just outside Schenectady. They only had about three more hours to go, but Mickey had to remember that there were people in the car that had to eat and use the bathroom. 

As soon as the car was parked, everyone jumped out and dispersed. Ian and Lip made a bee line for the bathrooms, Iggy and Mandy went to the little souvenir store. Mickey never understood their fascination with souvenirs. Every new place they visited, they had to grab a little keepsake. Iggy had an impressive collection of shot glasses. Mandy was partial to those pressed pennies. 

Mickey didn't understand it one bit, but it wasn't worth arguing over. 

Mickey himself found his way over to a collection of picnic tables toward the outskirts of the rest area. The space was surrounded by trees, and it was deserted. Exactly what Mickey needed at the moment. 

Life (or existence, depending on who you're talking about) had been so chaotic for the past several months, Mickey hadn't had a single second to just stop. Just to sit with himself, quiet. No threat to assess, no desperate need to fix things. No crippling anxiety. No sinking sensation in his chest, no risk of immanent demise. No chaos. No violence. 

He closed his eyes, falling back against the picnic table on his elbows. He took a deep, unnecessary breath, letting it out slowly. Even if he hadn't needed to breath in ages, the sensation of filling his lungs soothes him still. 

Of course, his peace is short lived. 

He hears someone approaching from the parking area and his hackles rise. It's clearly no one from his party, the footfalls are too heavy. Mickey's eyes snap open and he's dismayed to find he's surrounded by three older, stern looking priests. 

If this is a hit, they have screwed it up already. 

"Can I help you?" Mickey sighs, squinting up at the men in the bright sunlight. He can take them, if he has to. It would be a pain in the ass, and it's risky in the daytime, but Mickey didn't come this far to get taken out at the finish line. 

His hands clench into fists as he calculates the distance between himself and the first man when the guy actually steps forward, hand extended. 

"Mr. Milkovich, it's a pleasure. My name is Father Anthony." 

Mickey cocks an eyebrow, utterly at a loss, but takes the man's hand anyway. The handshake is firm, friendly. Once Mickey gets his hand back, he stands. He crosses his arms over his chest, waiting. 

"These are my colleagues, Father Peter and Brother Isaiah." 

"Okay...." Mickey looks between the men skeptically, waiting for the point of this visit. It's clear at this point that they mean him no harm. If they meant to kill him, they'd have made their move already. 

"We are with the Guild of Saint Benedict. Perhaps you have heard of us." 

Mickey nodded, swallowing. The Guild. Jesus fuck. He's never come face to face with any of these priests. He never had reason to. His clan doesn't make waves. They don't bring attention to themselves or their kind. They hardly ever take human life. They remain in the shadows, preferring their quiet existence over constant war. 

It has been that way since Terry died. With the end of the Order, it was even easier to fade into the background, content to be silent in a world of chaos and noise. 

Of course, with the sudden arrival of Ian and his deranged priest brother, the Milkovich family's quiet existence had morphed into a never ending stream of chaos and blood that reminded Mickey too much of the days when his father ruled over their clan. 

Mickey wonders if this is some kind of cosmic payback. All the terrible things he did at his father's behest being revisited on him just as he's about to finally have the one thing he's wanted for months now. 

Ian. Forever. 

Well, he's not going to give that up without a fight. 

But these men don't look like they came for blood...

Curious. 

"The Guild, huh?" Mickey replies, rubbing his upper lip with his thumb. "I have to say, you're a little late. You missed the party. A couple days ago we had quite a get together with one of your boys. Father Michael? Jacob Gallagher. Ring a bell?" Mickey's voice is harsh, dripping with sarcastic disdain. 

"Indeed, Mr. Milkovich." Father Anthony nods, his expression grim. "That is the reason for our visit this afternoon." 

"What about it?" Mickey asks, exasperated. "Lemme guess. You couldn't be bothered to step in and stop the psycho yourself. Too busy hunting elves or zombies, whatever you assholes do for fun. So you left it up to me to save the day, and clean up the mess. And now you're here to fuck with me because I killed one of your boys. Am I close?" 

"Not at all, Mr. Milkovich." Father Anthony replied, fighting to keep his expression passive as a smile threatened to bloom on his stoic face. Mickey smirked back. "It is a matter of record that Jacob Gallagher was a loose cannon. He should have been defrocked long ago, but his friends within the church tied our hands for quite some time. This last little....escapade of his had burned through any remaining goodwill the young man had with the Diocese. We were on our way to neutralize the problem when you and your family dispatched him so efficiently." 

Mickey laughed, shaking his head. "So we did all the work, and what? You take all the credit with his Holiness?" 

"Something like that." Father Anthony replied smoothly. "I take it Mr. Gallagher has been properly disposed of?" 

A small shiver went down Mickey's spine. He didn't like Ian's name on this man's tongue, even if he was speaking of Jacob. "Yeah, I have a friend with the Chicago PD. Jacob's death is officially a suicide. Depressed over his dead dad, whatever." 

"Clever, Mr. Milkovich. So the Guild will not have to deal with any investigation or reprisals due to this unfortunate event?" 

"Nope." Mickey replied, eyebrows raised. "Case is closed. No one's asking questions." 

"That is most pleasing to us." the priest said, his face twisting into a rather frightening smile. 

"Yeah, okay." Mickey said, oddly unnerved for an Upir. "Anything else?" 

"As a matter of fact, there is. Your human companions, what are your plans for them?" 

Mickey blanched, his eyes flitting over to his parked car. Ian and Lip were back in the car, talking animatedly in the back seat. Mandy and Iggy were seated on the hood, ignoring each other as they waited for Mickey to return from wherever he went. They can't see him, and that's better. The less people involved in this conversation the better. 

"We're going to a house my family keeps in Massachusetts." Mickey replied, trying to be as vague as possible. 

"And what do you plan on doing with these humans once you reach your destination?" Father Anthony pressed. 

Mickey sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You already know." 

Father Anthony chuckled. The sound was strange to Mickey's ears. "I do know. Have no fear, Mr. Milkovich, we do not intend to interrupt your claiming of this young man." 

"You don't?" Mickey balked, eyes wide. 

"God gifted all his children with free will, young man. It is not the job of the church or the Guild to police anyone's choices. We try to guide people in the right direction, through counsel and scripture. But not all souls can be saved. Mr. Gallagher is of sound mind, yes? You are not using your innate supernatural mind control on him?" 

"No!" Mickey spat. "I wouldn't ever do that." 

"It's a fair question, Mr. Milkovich." Father Anthony replied. Mickey rolled his eyes. It's not like he was wrong. Mesmerization was how Terry got all his wives, after all. 

"No." Mickey repeated, voice hard. "Ian's going into this with both eyes open. It's not a trick." Mickey huffed out a harsh breath. "If your organization follows my family like I think you do, you know for a fact that not only do we not take human life, we do not turn anyone. Never in my existence on this earth have I ever turned a human." 

"We do indeed know this, Mr. Milkovich. But can you vouch for your newly turned Upir lover? Or his Lupine brother? You know as well as I do how volatile young werewolves are. And that's not even considering the blood thirst of a newborn Upir. How can you guarantee your...friends...won't cause a mess that my brethren and I will have to clean up?" Father Anthony asks, eyebrows raised. "We could have such a good working relationship, Mr. Milkovich. I'd hate for us to part unpleasantly over something like this." 

Mickey scoffed, beyond over the forced civility of this conversation. "How about this? If Ian goes on a blood soaked rampage all over New England, or if Lip takes to eating school children and sweet old ladies, I'll gather us all up and let you and your posse of irrationally angry choir boys decapitate every last one of us. How 'bout that?" 

Mickey was surprised when the mysterious priest cracked a genuine smile. "That is not our ideal outcome, Mr. Milkovich." 

"Mine either." Mickey grinned back. 

"I want to make you an offer, Mr. Milkovich." Father Anthony said. "We will allow you to claim the younger Gallagher man, as long as he understands the risks and is still willing to imperil his mortal soul to give himself to you. That is out of our hands." 

"How generous of you." Mickey snarked. 

"And the brother...as long as remains of no risk to the humans in his orbit, we have no issue with him. He obeys the rules, Mr. Milkovich, or we will not hesitate to eliminate him." 

Mickey nodded. He had a feeling the Guild's rules were much like his own. Avoid detection. Keep the secret. Do not take human life needlessly. 

"And as for you, our offer is simple. You are well known and well connected among your kind. Upirs, vampires, werewolves. Even witches and other, erm, extraordinary creatures. It would be most pleasing to us if you would keep your eye out for any of these beings breaking the rules. Vampires forming armies, werewolves running amok in the forests. Witches using magic for nefarious purposes. Satanic rituals, and so on. We would appreciate you keeping us abreast of any of these situations, were you to become aware of them. In exchange, the Guild will not interfere with your family's business. Within reason, mind you." the priest said, stern. 

Mickey nodded again. He didn't like being a narc, but sometimes you were compelled to commit necessary evils.

"Yes." Mickey said. "I will to monitor my world for threats. People that would upset the delicate balance we have achieved over the past decades. If I see anything noteworthy, you will be my first call." Mickey never anticipated having this kind of arrangement with the Guild. It seemed so far outside the realm of possibility mere years ago. But now that the opportunity has arisen, Mickey finds himself eager to take it.  
Anything that can help his family stay safe and on the right side of the church. Now that Ian is going to be part of the clan, Mickey is desperate to keep the peace. 

He needs to protect Ian, even in his new form. Especially in his new form. Once they are mated, it will be Mickey's only purpose on Earth.

"Good. Thank you Mr. Milkovich. This is good news for everyone involved. I was sincerely hoping we would be able to come to an agreement. It would be a shame to have to part on unfriendly terms after everything." 

"You mean killing us all?" Mickey replied, eyebrows raised. 

Father Anthony ignored Mickey's snarky question, instead turning to one of the other priests. "Brother Isaiah, can you please give Mr. Milkovich our card?" 

The other priest stepped forward, pulling a black business card out of his robe and handing it to Mickey with an unreadable expression. Mickey glanced down at it. It was just a number, gold digits. No name. 

Mickey smirked, pocketing the card. 

"Please don't hesitate to call us, any hour, if you see or hear something that might be of interest to us. Don't investigate, Mr. Milkovich. Although you did well with this Father Michael business, please leave the monster hunting to the professionals." 

"With pleasure." Mickey replied. He never wanted a repeat performance of the bullshit they went through with Jacob. 

"Good." Father Anthony said, turning on his heel and stalking back toward the parking lot, his two goons hot on his heels. Mickey sighed, following them back toward the lot. They had to get back on the road. 

As Father Anthony was walking past the car, Iggy sat up on the hood and let out a vicious hiss. 

"Iggy, shut the fuck up." Mickey sighed. Father Anthony merely smiled that dark smile again, saluting Iggy with two fingers before turning his back on him and making his way across the parking lot toward a black town car. 

Mickey motioned for everyone to pile back into the car as he himself slid into the back seat. "Iggy, drive." 

Iggy glared, but did as he was told. Mandy got in the passenger seat while Ian jumped in next to Mickey and Lip took the hatchback. 

Once they were on the road again, Ian cuddled up to Mickey, resting his head on his shoulder and threading their fingers together. 

"What was that all about?" Ian asks, playing idly with Mickey's fingers. 

"Yeah, what the fuck, Mick." Iggy growled from behind the wheel. "Why were you even talking to those assholes? Why didn't they pick a fight. They always do." 

"Not this time." Mickey replied. "They made us an offer." 

 

***

 

No one said anything as they piled back in the car. Iggy opened his mouth to ask, but the glare he got from Mickey shut him up. For the time being. Mickey tuned out the radio and the noise of everyone chatting, instead focusing on the soft sound of Ian's breathing, and the even softer sound of his heartbeat. Mickey closed his eyes, trying to memorize the sound. Too soon it would be gone forever. Iggy drove fast and an hour and a half later, they arrived at their Berkshires house, in Monterrey Massachusetts. 

The house was big. An old acquisition from back when Terry ruled the clan. A lob cabin, if you wanted to be technical. It would work for what they needed. 

Iggy turned the car off and Mickey turned to Ian with a smile. "You ready?" 

And Mickey's not even sure what he means in that moment. You ready to go inside? You ready to do this crazy shit? You ready to give up your life on the mortal plane and step into eternity me? 

Mickey's losing his shit. The gravity of the moment settling on him like a ton of bricks, suffocating and terrifying. The priests words ring in his head, sickening him. What if Ian changed his mind? What if he didn't want to be claimed after all? What if he wasn't bonded to Mickey at all? What if Mickey turns him and Ian leaves him anyway? What if Mickey loses him? 

"Mick?" Ian's soft voice breaks him out of his revelry. Mickey shakes off the negative thoughts, opening the back door and stepping out without another word. Mickey slammed his door closed and made his way quickly to the front door of the cabin, leaving the others to bring in the luggage, exchanging confused looks. 

Ian follows behind Mickey, dismayed by his change in mood. He follows Mickey through the house, up the stairs and into what Ian assumes with be their bedroom for the duration of their stay in Massachusetts.

Ian steps into the room to find Mickey sitting on the bed, arms crossed over his chest, staring out the window with a scowl on his face. 

The room is smaller than their room at the manor house. It seems to be the only bedroom on the second floor, probably the master. The walls are a light wood, the bed is big. Wrought iron headboard, large dresser and a comfy looking stuffed chair by the bay window. It looks nice, cozy. And in any other circumstance, Ian would be jumping on Mickey and cuddling him into the plush bedding of the massive bed. 

Given the strange circumstances and Mickey's sudden shift in mood, Ian chooses to sit gingerly on the bed, leaving a fair amount of space between them. He waits, just watching Mickey, giving time for him to gather his thoughts. 

But Mickey doesn't speak. The minutes of silence stretch into uncomfortable territory and Ian decides he can't take it anymore. He scoots closer to Mickey on the bed, so close that Ian can wrap his arm around Mickey's shoulder and pull the other man close to his side. 

"What is it, Mick?" Ian asks, voice low and quiet. 

Mickey sighs, turning toward Ian. They are so close their foreheads touch. "I was just thinking about you." 

"And that makes you sad?" Ian asks, not bothering to hide the hurt in his voice. 

"No, Ian." Mickey said, reaching up to card his fingers through Ian's hair. "I'm not sad." Mickey cleared his throat, giving Ian a small smile. "I just want you to be sure, y'know, about this. About me." 

Ian gave Mickey a sad smile, wrapping his arms around Mickey and pulling him down to the bed. They laid next to each other, arms intertwined, knees pressed together. "Let's just do it now." Ian whispered into the space between them. Mickey pulled back, eyebrows raised. 

"What? No." 

"Why not?" Ian insisted, his fingers curling into Mickey's hair, pulling their foreheads together once more. "We beat the bad guy. We're safe. We're here together now. This is why we came up here, right? So just do it, I'm ready." 

"Ian, you're not. You're not ready." Mickey insisted. He's not sure why he's arguing the point, but he just can't shake the feeling that Ian will resent him, or worse yet, hate him after the fact. 

Mickey's in uncharted territory. No one in his family has ever claimed a mate. Not to mention the added pressure of Ian being Fated to him. What if Mickey let him down?

Neither of them would survive a separation. They'd both go mad, then die. Horribly.

Mickey can't let that happen to Ian. 

"Mickey." Ian says, pulling Mickey out of his head. "Did you....do you not want me anymore?" 

Mickey's stomach dropped. Of course Ian would blame himself. "Ian, of fucking course I want you. I guess I was just thinking about the future. Like, what if I change you, and you hate me for it? I'm sure we'll have some wonderful years together. But what about after your family starts dying? When Fiona goes, then Debbie, Carl and Liam. One day, even Lip will be nothing but a memory. And we will go on, forever. Once were at mated, we can not be apart Ian. Not for any extended amount of time. The bond will make it nearly impossible to maintain any true distance. What if you decide you don't want that? I can't stand the idea of you leaving Ian. Never mind the idea of you going mad and dying because of me. Ian, I can't, I don't..." 

Ian cut him off with a kiss. He wrapped his hand around the back of Mickey's head and surged forward, pressing their lips together hard. Mickey gasped, and Ian took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, pressing his tongue into Mickey's mouth. Mickey kissed him back eagerly, totally losing his train of thought as Ian devoured his mouth. 

Ian grinned against Mickey's lips, rolling them so he was situated on top. Mickey spread his legs and Ian settled comfortably in between his thighs. They kissed for some time, groping at each other desperately. 

Mickey threaded his fingers through Ian's hair, tugging. Ian groaned, grinding his hips down against Mickey's. 

Ian broke the kiss, panting. He was so hard, but he couldn't get distracted. He waited for Mickey to open his eyes. Once he did, Ian just stared down at him, breathing heavy. Mickey's eyes were soft, his lips smooth and pale pink. He never got disheveled like Ian did. He always looked completely in control, even if he was utterly debauched. 

Ian smiled down at him, tenderly running his fingers down the side of his face. "Mick, in case you haven't noticed, I'm beyond in love with you. And I say beyond because it honestly does go beyond all that. Those basic human emotions, love, lust, adoration, whatever. I am tied to you, by something neither of us fully understand. And no matter how we met, no matter what universe or form we were in, it would always be you and I. If we were both regular guys, I'd feel the same way. If we met in the sixties at Woodstock or in the trenches at Normandy. No matter the time or place or circumstance, I am meant for you. So if you are asking me if I am going to regret this or want to take it back, or somehow decide that I'd rather be dead than with you, please for the love of Christ, listen. This is all I want. All I'll ever want. You. You're all I'll ever need. I'm not afraid of the change. I'm fucking ready. And as for my family, yes, it will be utterly devastating when they die, and I will mourn them, but that's how life goes. Well, for everyone except us. My point is, I would never hold that against you. You are offering me a wondrous gift, Mikhailio. Life forever with someone who loves me more than I ever thought possible. And when those hard times come, we'll see it through together." Ian paused, reigning in his emotions before he started to cry. "I am not going into this blindly, Mick. I know what it means, and I still want you." Ian gave Mickey a watery smile and Mickey grinned back. 

"Okay." Mickey replied, voice low. His body was singing. The pull throbbed between them, more powerful than ever. Mickey's head was swimming with it, unable to think of anything beyond Ian and their connection. 

"Okay." Ian replied, his heart overflowing with love. "When?" 

Mickey considered for a moment before the perfect moment came to him. 

"The full moon." 

"What? On Friday?" Ian asks, confused. He's kind of memorized the lunar calendar. It's pretty important when you have a werewolf brother to know when the moon will be full. 

"Yeah." Mickey replied, wrapping his legs around Ian's hips and flipping them. Ian landed, back on the mattress, a surprised laugh bubbling out of his lips. Mickey settled on top of him, pinning his hands above his head. "Friday. You're brother will be out. I don't think I could do it with him in the house. My siblings will go if I ask them too. It's important that we be alone and uninterrupted for the duration of the claiming." 

Ian's heart started pounding in his chest. This is it. The moment he's been waiting for. He's going to do it. He's going to give himself to Mickey completely. Mickey will be his, forever. No one or nothing will ever come between them again. 

"So, how do we do it?" Ian asks, feeling a little breathless. The gravity of the moment settling heavily on him. 

"I'm so glad you asked." Mickey grinned down at him, slowly swirling his hips on Ian's growing erection. "Let me give you a preview." 

 

***

 

So, the plan was simple. Easiest shit in the world. Mickey's never turned or claimed anyone before, but he knows the logistics of it. Knows what he has to do, how he has to do it. He knows how to keep Ian alive long enough to drain him, how to feed Ian from his own body. He can do it, he knows he can. 

He's not worried about any of that. 

Surprisingly, what he's most worried about is telling his clan. And Ian's brother. Lip has never hidden his disdain for Mickey or his relationship with Ian. And Mickey is certain Lip is still holding out hope that Ian will come to his senses and change his mind. 

So when Mickey gathers everyone in the living room of the mountain house, he's ashamed to admit he's a little bit nervous. 

"What's this about?" Lip spat, grumpy as ever, tossing himself down on the overstuffed couch in the center of the room. "I'm supposed to be at the Collective soon. I don't want to be late on my first day meeting the elders."

Lip was not bothering to mask his excitement over meeting other werewolves. Mickey understands where he's coming from. He can't imagine what it would be like to be alone in the world as an Upir. Waking up to discover you had changed fundamentally, and having no one around to support you through the metamorphosis. Mickey and his siblings did the best they could since crossing paths with Philip Gallagher, but Upirs could only guide a werewolf so much. 

But all that is beside the point at the moment. Mickey has something much more pressing to discuss. 

He waited for Iggy and Mandy to sit on the couch next to Lip, all three of them in a line, looking bored and a little irritated. Ian stood close by but not right next to Mickey, leaning up against the wall by the window, a small smirk playing at his lips. 

Of course he'd leave the announcement to Mickey, the dick. But...this was Mickey's responsibility. Mickey just hopes Ian will forgive him if he has to knock Lip out to prevent any real bodily damage on either part. 

"Seriously, Mick. I'm starving. Mandy and I were gonna hit that club in Leicester. Gonna get nice and drunk on some virgin blood." 

"Oh, fuck off, Igg. You know the blood of virgins doesn't taste any different." Mandy sighed. 

"How would you know?" Iggy retorted. "When was the last time you drank from a virgin?" 

"It's been a long time, cuz I'm not a pervert." Mandy spat. 

"Guys, shut the fuck up." Mickey groaned. No one seemed to notice. 

"I really need to go." Lip said, running his fingers through his hair. "The Elders are waiting for me. My ride's gonna be here any second." 

"Iggy, you have to know, all blood tastes the same. I mean, unless they are addicts or whatever. They taste funny." 

"I think the Irish taste funny." Iggy replied, contemplating. "I don't know what it is, just off, somehow. No offense, guys." Iggy shrugged at Ian's raised eyebrows. 

"If this is all we're doing, I'm going." Lip moved to stand. 

Mickey had had enough. He slammed his hand down on the table in front of him, silencing the room and drawing all the attention to himself. 

"Ian and I have decided it's time for his turn." Mickey said. Might as well just get to the point. 

"You what?" Lip growled, shooting off the couch and into Mickey's face immediately. Mickey held in a sigh as Lip pressed him hard against the wall with a hand around his throat. 

"Lip, stop." Ian said, sounding more exasperated than scared. "It's my decision." 

Lip looked over at Ian, his face softening. "Ian..." 

But Ian just shook his head, stepping forward and gently prying Lip off of Mickey. "Lip, we've talked about this, many times. You know I've already made my decision. Please, don't make this harder than it has to be."

Lip sighed, stepping away. It was clear to him that there was no talking Ian out of this. And the hypocrisy of it all was wearing him down. Who was he to judge? In two days he'll be wandering the forest in full wolf mode. It's not his place to tell his brother what supernatural shit to do with his life. 

Even though it kills him a little bit to see his brother make this choice. 

"Fine." Lip groaned, stepping away from Mickey and flopping back down on the couch with an irritated huff. "So tell me then, when's the happy coupling?" 

"Friday." Ian said, small smile playing at his lips. 

"This Friday?" Lip spat, shocked. "That's in like two days. And I won't be here. My turn." 

"We know that, Philip." Mickey said, smirking. "I think it would be best for everyone if no one was here except me and Ian when we mate. It's a very private moment, and distractions are dangerous and unwelcome."

"But what if something goes wrong?" Lip asks, anxiety bubbling in his gut. "What if I'm not here and Ian needs me?" 

"Nothing's gonna happen." Mandy interjected, giving Lip a reassuring smile. "Iggy and I will be on the property the whole time, not that they'll need us. We have been feeding from humans for decades, Lip. No one of our feeding partners has died in well over forty years. The turn will be just like any other time Mick has fed from Ian, except this time, Ian will also drink from Mick. Then, the transformation can begin." 

Mickey was relieved his sister left out the part when Mickey had to drain Ian to the point of death before feeding him. He hoped Lip had forgotten that part in all his extensive reading on supernatural topics. 

"Then that's it? They're mated?" Lip asks, sounding dejected. 

"No, no." Mickey shook his head. He knew it was a lot to take it, especially for someone who hasn't lived with it their whole lives. "Only Upirs can be mated. So only after Ian's turn is complete, and he's had time to adjust, then I will claim him." 

"Sounds like quite a production." Lip joked humorlessly. 

"It's a commitment, Philip. Not just a lifetime commitment, an eternal commitment. The fact that it's a two step process is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things." 

Lip huffed, but said no more. 

"So, are we going to do this tonight? The first part?" Ian asks, speaking for the first time in quite a while. He had been content just to sit back and absorb what was being said around him. He's having a little bit of a hard time wrapping his head around it all. 

This is it. The end of his human life. The beginning of forever with Mickey. Ian can't even fathom what it's going to be like. What's it going to feel like to die? What is it going to feel like not taking his medication anymore, no longer being bipolar? How is it going to feel when Mickey finally claims him, the culmination of this long, arduous journey? 

Ian has no idea. His head is swimming, his heart pounding. 

Ian drops down on the love seat across from the couch, blocking out the conversation going on around him and instead focusing on his breathing, his heartbeat. He's never put too much thought into his body's function. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the ever-present pounding of his heart. 

But soon, all that will be just a memory. 

Who will Ian be after his change? 

The question gives Ian pause, and suddenly he's hit with a sickening wave of anxiety. 

Mickey turns toward him, as if he can feel his distress, even across the room. He makes his way to Ian quickly, dropping down next to him on the love seat, so close their thighs touch. Mickey cocks his head to the side, his hand reaching out, gripping Ian's arm. Ian lets himself be pulled against Mickey's side, lets the other man wrap him in his arms. Ian lays his head on Mickey's shoulder, that anxious feeling bleeding out of him and being completely replaced by the soothing, quite pulse of the Pull. It radiated out of Mickey's chest, flowing around Ian and seeping deep into his bones until there was nothing inside him but muted, gentle love. All his worries fade away and he is left with the simple assurance that this is where he belongs. 

"Ian? Are you listening?" his brother's voice pulls him out of his head and he glances up at Lip. He's standing by the door with a man Ian doesn't recognize. 

"Yeah, sorry. What?" Ian replied, blushing when he realized everyone was staring at him. 

Lip gave him a curious look, but thankfully didn't press him. "This is Arturo. He's part of the Collective. He's, uh, he's helping me with my...." 

"Sacred transformation." the man supplied, smiling. Ian's brow furrowed, confused by the words. 

"Sacred transformation." Lip repeated, confidence bleeding into his tone. Arturo stepped forward, hand out. Ian stood and took the two steps so they could shake hands. 

"Nice to meet you, Ian. Your brother has told me so much about you." 

Ian paled, glancing between Lip and Mickey before looking back to this stranger. 

"Oh, don't worry about all that." Arturo laughed. "Our alliance with the Milkovich clan is strong, many years in the making. You have nothing to fear from our Pack. If need be, we will protect you like our own, just like the Upirs do for our Pack." 

Ian nodded, relaxing. "Oh, thank you." 

"No need to thank me. It's our agreement. My Pack has been on this land since before the Pilgrims landed. We have lived peacefully and quietly for hundred of years. The Milkovich clan has never given us anything but respect. And we do our best to return it."

Ian nodded again, still a little confused. Arturo looked foreign. "Your family was here before the pilgrims?" 

"Ah, yes." Arturo nodded, smirking. 

"He's part of the Mahican tribe, Ian." Mickey said, grinning. 

"Native American?" Ian replied, still profoundly confused. 

"Yes." Arturo replied. "And my family has been of the Wolf for centuries." 

"So wait? The whole tribe is werewolves?" 

"No, no. Only a chosen few." 

"Were you bitten?" Ian asks, his head spinning once more with all this new information. 

"No, Ian. Think of it in terms of my clan." Mickey said, gripping Ian under the chin and turning his face so they were eye to eye. "I was born Upir, it's in my blood. No one turned me. Arturo's family is the same way. They have wolf blood, have since the dawn of time. Some of us are just created differently." 

Ian nodded, finally understanding. "Oh." 

"So, if anyone can teach me the proper way to live with this condition, it's Arturo and his tribe." Lip concluded. 

It did make sense, and Ian was happy that Lip was going to be learning from such a long line of successful, safe wolves. The thought was odd, but it was true. Lip was going to be training to be a better werewolf, under a family that had been successfully running wild under the full moon for hundreds of years. 

For the first time since Lip's attack, Ian wasn't afraid to watch him leave for his turn, certain he'd return in one piece. 

It was a relief. 

"Good, I'm glad." Ian said, his voice thick with emotion. He's been overwrought with concern for his brother for so long now, to know he's in good hands is incredibly soothing to him.

"So, we'll make our leave then." Arturo said, clapping Lip on the back as he stepped around him toward the door. "Say goodbye to your brother, Philip. The next time you see him, things will be quite different." with that, Arturo left out the front door and Lip walked over to Ian. He had a somber expression on his face, like he was seeing Ian off to war or something. 

"I guess I'll see you on Sunday." Lip said quietly as Ian stood to face him in the middle of the living room. Mandy, Mickey and Iggy talked among themselves, giving the brothers a much needed private moment.  
"You'll be a whole new man." 

"I'll still be me, Lip." Ian replied quietly. "I'll still be your brother." 

"Ian, man. You'll always be my brother." Lip said, giving Ian a genuine smile. "When I first got turned, I was so afraid I was going to be alone in this. But now I know I'll have my best friend by my side the entire time. We'll learn the ropes of this strange new world together. The Gallagher brothers against the world, right?" 

"Fuck yeah." Ian laughed, utterly relieved. Lip was trying. He was really trying to let go of his reservations and accept Ian's decision. Ian's heart swelled with happiness, a lump forming in his throat. He wrapped his arms around his brother, pulling him into the hardest, tightest hug ever. Lip chuckled, hugging him back just as hard. 

Ian's not sure how long they stayed like that, locked in an embrace, clinging to something they couldn't keep. But soon Lip was pulling back, discreetly wiping his eyes as he ruffled Ian's hair with his free hand. 

"Okay, I'll be back on Monday. Be careful Ian." Ian nodded, blinking back tears. Lip gives him one more small smile, clapping him on the shoulder as he finally walks away. 

Ian watches him go, feeling sad and a little nostalgic. Ian can't help but feel like this moment is a turning point in his life. Not only his turn, but the first time in his life he is stepping away from his family and toward something new. Not necessarily better, but different and exciting and wonderful. Ian's not scared, not even a little bit. 

It's the first time in a very long time he's stepping into the unknown with complete confidence and surety. Everything is going to work out perfectly. 

With Mickey by his side there is no other way...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know! no mating? no bonding? what the fuck, nadine. you sadist. i kinda hate me too right now. but i wanted to save it for it's own chapter, really dedicate some long, drawn out words to the claiming process. you'll thank me later ;) 
> 
> we are sooooo close to the end. one, maybe two chapters left. i'm gonna be sad to see this one end, but i have some new ideas for some other fics in this vein. so if you're into blood, guts and creepy shit, keep your eyes peeled for more madness. 
> 
> ps: the little convo with the priests in this chapter was inspired by a comment on last chapter. so nicrenkel, i hope this cleared up any guild-related questions. i'm clearly winging it, hope it's not coming off that way. ha.
> 
> pps: ten points to the reader who can guess what comic iggy is reading. hint: it's currently pretty damn popular, and i'm toying with the idea of writing for the fandom....


	15. The idiot's guide to beginner's Upirism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment has finally arrived. Mickey is prepared to turn and claim his mate. He has so much to show him, so much to teach him. But first, he has to turn him...
> 
> Ian's been waiting for this moment since he first decided he wanted Mickey forever. There's no turning back now. Not that he'd ever want to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be the final chapter, but i've decided to do one more, kind of wrap things up. so keep your eyes peeled for that one. i have some other irons in the fire, but i'll get this finished asap.

The house is quiet. That's the thing Ian notices as he lays on his back in the upstairs bedroom he shares with Mickey in this new house. 

Mandy and Iggy are still at the bar, drinking their fill of young, naive twenty-somethings who will wake up in the morning none the wiser, albeit a tad sore. 

Lip has been gone for hours now, miles down the road along the Hoosic river. Ian hasn't been to the Collective, which Mickey explained to him is really more like a reservation for the pack's tribe members. It reminds Ian of Twilight, which is kinda hilarious. Native american werewolves. Debbie would be freaking out if she were here. But Mickey explained to Ian that all ethnicities have their own version of supernatural beings. Like Upirs are to the Ukrainians. Makes as much sense as anything else, Ian supposes. 

He's just glad Lip is safe, and seems to be making some new friends. Ian wonders idly as he sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, if this is where they are going to stay. Is this small cabin in the Massachusetts mountains going to be their new home? 

Ian's not sure how he feels about that. The northeast surprisingly feels like another planet. People are different here. They are some of the friendliest people he's ever met, but also the snarkiest, most sarcastic weirdos he's ever encountered. Their accents are so thick sometimes Ian has no idea what they are saying. Mickey thinks it's hilarious, promises Ian he'll get used to it. 

Ian guesses you can get used to anything when you have unlimited time on earth to get acclimated. 

He's pulled out of his head by the sound of the bedroom door opening and clicking closed again. He glances up, smiling when he sees Mickey leaning up against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Mickey's grinning at him, eyebrows raised. 

"Starting without me?" he asks, motioning to Ian's bare chest. 

Ian laughs, shaking his head. "Just trying to get more comfortable." 

"Hey, don't let me stop you. Sounds like a good idea to me." Mickey replies, tugging his own shirt off and throwing it behind him with a little flourish. Ian laughed, standing from the bed and walking quickly over to Mickey. They met in the middle of the room, grabbing for each other desperately. Mickey kissed Ian hard, his fingers trailing down his bare torso to his belt buckle. 

Ian's heart skips a beat at Mickey's touch. This is it. The first step of this journey. Mickey has prepared him as best he can, told him what to expect, tried to explain in explicit detail how the turn will go down. Ian is not scared, per say. He's nervous, for sure, but mostly just excited. 

He trusts Mickey implicitly, and he's eager to take this step with him. 

"Hey, you okay?" Mickey's soft voice pulls him out of his head and Ian grins down at him sheepishly. He nods, blushing. 

"Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about how much I want this. How much I want you." 

Mickey gave Ian a soft smile, his teeth gleaming dangerously as he cupped Ian around the back of the head and pulled him down into another kiss. Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey's waist, holding him close. Their lips met softly, carefully, as Mickey guided Ian backwards toward the bed. 

The back of Ian's knees hit the mattress and he tumbled over backwards onto the sheets. He huffed out a small laugh as he sank into the plush bedding, Mickey crawling over him. 

Mickey stared down at Ian, his eyes taking in every single detail. Ian's chest was heaving, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open. His bare chest was pink, hot to the touch. Mickey hovered over him, dipping his head down for another kiss, this one with more heat but no more urgency. Mickey's tongue licked into Ian's mouth slowly, savoring the taste of him. His mate. 

Ian sighed, his whole body relaxing at Mickey's gentle touch. For some reason, he'd assumed the change would be more chaotic, a little more violent. But Mickey is handling him like something precious. His tongue laps at Ian's, his fingers carding through his hair as his other hand slowly drags up and down his bare chest. 

It feels so good, Mickey's light touch and sweet kisses. Ian's body is reacting quickly, even though the moment is not all that erotic. His cock is hard in his jeans, straining against his zipper as Mickey settles heavily on top of him. Mickey spreads his legs, his ass nestled perfectly in the cup of Ian's pelvis.

Ian's hands come up, cupping Mickey's ass over the pants he's regrettably still wearing. He pulls Mickey down hard on his lap, thrusting up against him. 

"Mick, c'mon." Ian whines, surging up for another kiss. Mickey laughs, backing off just out of reach. 

"Relax." Mickey murmurs, pecking Ian's lips playfully. "We're in no rush. We don't even have to have sex to do this. It may actually be better if we don't." 

Ian froze, his hands stilling on Mickey's ass. He pulled back, staring up at his lover, confused. 

"Huh? I thought that was the main part of this little process..." 

Mickey chuckled, rocking in Ian's lap. "See, you weren't listening. Sex is part of the claiming ritual, not the turn, Ian. I need to be singularly focused when I turn you. I can't get distracted or carried away. And we both know what I'm like with your dick inside me."

Ian laughed, blushing. God, what is it about this man that turns him into such a little girl? 

"Oh, okay. So...what...do you want me..." 

"Just relax." Mickey smiled, kissing Ian once more before crawling off his lap and backing down the bed. 

Ian lifted himself up on his elbows so he could see what Mickey was doing. 

Mickey grinned up at him before laying an open mouthed kiss to his chest. Ian sighed, arching into the touch. Mickey continued his descent, licking and kissing along Ian's abdomen and stomach. He lapped softly at Ian's abs before digging his teeth into his hip bone. His fingers moved to Ian's fly, unzipping his pants and pulling them down along with his underwear. Ian lifted his hips to help and soon he was naked on the bed, his breath heavy as he trembled in anticipation. 

Mickey quickly shed his own clothes and covered Ian's bare body with his own. 

Mickey skin was cool and smooth, sending a shiver along Ian's heated flesh. He groaned, strangely enticed by the odd sensation. "Mick, what....what's next?" 

"I told you to relax." Mickey said, smiling. "I'm gonna take care of you. Everything is fine, okay?" 

Ian nodded, his heart hammering in his chest. He was so hard it fucking hurt. He knows Mickey said no sex, but he can't imagine the other man leaving him like this, especially at such a pivotal moment. He tried to relax, breathing slowly through his nose as Mickey just kept kissing and licking all over his body. 

Mickey inhaled deeply, the scent of Ian's skin intoxicating. He was desperate, so fucking ready to turn his mate. But he wanted to make this special for Ian. This is a moment he will remember for the rest of his existence. 

It has to be perfect. 

So he draws it out. Sucking the final clusters of dark hickies Ian will ever have into his thighs. Ian is a moaning mess, shaking with desire as Mickey ghosts his lips along his dripping cock, only to bypass it completely and sink his sharp teeth into the meat of his side. 

"Ah, fuck." Ian hisses, his body bowing off the bed. Mickey chuckles, crawling back over Ian's prone form. He throws a leg over his waist, resting his naked ass right on Ian's hard on. He rocks back, moaning at the sensation. 

Ian is so hard, and it would be so easy just to sink down onto his dick. 

But that's not what this is about. 

Mickey cups Ian's face with one hand, smiling down at him. Ian's hands come up to rest on Mickey's hips, holding him close. Mickey dips his head down for another tender kiss, licking into Ian's panting mouth. He pulls back just enough so he can look into Ian's eyes. 

Ian is staring up at him with so much reverence, so much love, Mickey can't handle it. 

This. 

This is the feeling Mickey's been waiting his whole life for. 

This is why he was born. This is why he was made Upir. 

To claim his one true Fated Mate. To become one with this perfect being. 

To spend the rest of eternity loving him and protecting him. 

To be everything for him. Everything to him. 

Ian is smiling up at him, his eyes bright. His lips are swollen from all the kissing and he keeps biting them like he does when he's excited. 

The Pull surges out of Mickey's chest and right into Ian's. Stronger than ever before. It flows out of him like a tidal wave, hitting Ian so hard he moans, his eyes slipping closed unbidden. 

"Oh my god, Mickey." Ian chokes out. 

"You ready?" Mickey whispers, his whole body thrumming with anticipation. 

Ian nods, unable to form words. He's feeling so much at the moment, his brain can't keep up. The cool, heavy weight of Mickey on top of him. The sweat accumulating on his chest and neck, his heart pounding violently in his chest. He's leaking all over the place, so hard. So excited his vision is swimming. Mickey's energy is overwhelming, seeping into his skin and deep into his soul. He feels full, complete in a way he didn't think possible. His hands fall to Mickey's hips as his lover tenderly brushes a lock of sweaty hair out of his eyes. 

"Just relax. Totally let go." Mickey murmurs, brushing his lips along Ian's jaw. "Surrender yourself to me, to the sensation. Don't panic, it's gonna feel weird, like you're fading away. But I'm not going to let anything happen to you. You are about to be transformed, Ian." 

Ian nods again, his eyes slipping closed as Mickey kisses him hard on the mouth. His tongue is hot and slick, he tastes perfect. Ian moans as Mickey breaks the kiss, trailing his lips and tongue along Ian's jaw before burying his face in the crook of Ian's neck. 

Mickey inhales deeply, relishing Ian's human scent for the last time. It's warm and spicy and melts Mickey's cold, dead heart. 

He loves him so much, and he lets that emotion guide him. He noses along Ian's throat, searching out the perfect spot. Ian's pulse pounds under Mickey's tongue and he bears his teeth. 

Ian sucks in a sharp breath at the first pinch of Mickey's canine teeth. He lets his body go limp beneath his lover as he totally surrenders to him. It feels different than the other times Mickey has fed from him. 

In the past, Mickey has held back, never wanting to take more than Ian would be able to handle. This time, Mickey sucks hard, pulling the lifeblood from Ian faster than Ian anticipated. The wound site feels hot, numb. It sends an intense wave of tingles shooting down Ian's body and he shivers. 

Mickey is in heaven. Ian always tastes delicious, but this is another thing entirely. He curls his fingers into the hair at the back of Ian's head, tilting his neck to the side for a better angle. Ian's blood gushes out of the wound, filling Mickey's mouth faster than he can swallow. He can feel a small trickle seeping from between his lips, but he ignores it. 

He has to stay focused. 

He can feel Ian's chest heaving under him, Ian's heart pounding faster and harder. Mickey loses himself in the erratic tempo, a metronome counting down the last moments of Ian's human life. 

Ian chokes, coughing. A little bit of blood spurts out of his mouth and splatters all over his face. He starts to panic. He didn't think he was going to, but he can feel his body shutting down, and he's scared. 

He's suddenly very cold, his fingers and toes numb. He's trembling, tears stinging his eyes. 

Mickey must sense something's wrong, because he starts stroking the back of Ian's head gently, trying to soothe him through the last moments of his life. He pushes his aura out, the Pull flowing freely. It hits Ian like a truck full of Thorazine, and he's no longer frightened. 

Nothing matters. Not his fear or his slowing heart. Not the past or how he got here. None of that matters. 

The only thing that matters is Mickey, and the gift he's giving him. 

Eternal life. With the one person on Earth that loves him more than anything. 

Mickey would never hurt him. He trusts Mickey, with everything he has. 

He trusts him with his life. To end it, and give him a new one.

Ian closes his eyes. This is it. 

Mickey is full. Full of Ian's blood, full of Ian's spirit. He feels Ian go limp beneath him, almost unconscious. His heart is barely beating, his breathing shallow. Mickey pulls off with a gasp, sitting up on Ian's lap. 

His lover is covered in blood, all down his chest and stomach, some of it even got on his face. He looks dead already, but Mickey can still hear his heart beating. 

Now. This is the moment. 

Mickey brings his own wrist to his mouth, ripping open a fairly large wound with his sharp teeth. Ian will need all the help he can get the first time. Blood pours from the cut, dribbling down his arm and onto Ian's stomach, mixing with Ian's own blood. 

Mickey leans over Ian's still form, pressing his bleeding wrist to Ian's parted lips. 

At first, Ian has no reaction. He lays limply under Mickey. Lifeless. 

Mickey won't freak out. He knows how this goes. He needs to stay calm, he needs to complete the transformation. He presses his wrist harder to Ian's mouth, watching intently as he waits. His eyes flit all over Ian's lax face. His closed eyes, his pale complexion. His motionless chest and still heart. 

It feels like it goes on forever. Mickey stays stock still, wrist pressed to Ian's unmoving mouth. Blood seeps out from between Ian's parted lips, dripping down his cheeks and chin. 

Still, nothing happens. 

Mickey starts to panic. 

He's never turned anyone before. And even though it seemed straight forward and simple, now that he's gone past the point of no return, Mickey is terrified he's fucked it up somehow. 

What the fuck?  
What did he do?

He pulls his wrist away from Ian's mouth. There is blood everywhere, but Ian's mouth is empty. He swallowed most of it. 

So he should be waking up right now. 

But he doesn't. 

Mickey sits up, poking Ian gently in the shoulder. 

Nothing. 

He shakes him harder, watching with growing distress as Ian remains unmoving. 

"Ian?"  
"Ian, come on."  
"Ian, wake the fuck up!" 

Mickey is shaking Ian hard, leaving bloody hand prints on his ghost white shoulders. Ian's head jerks with the movement, but he still doesn't stir. 

Mickey shakes him harder, violently jostling his dead lover. Mickey chokes out a sob his vision blurring. 

No.  
No no no no no no....

"Ian, please...." 

The moment drags on for an eternity. Mickey's doesn't move. He doesn't breathe, he just stares at Ian's corpse, his heart shattered and his mind utterly blank. 

Mickey thinks he's hallucinating when he sees it. 

Ian's eyes. They flutter. Just the slightest bit. Mickey freezes, his fingers still clenched tightly around Ian's shoulders, nails cutting into the pale flesh. 

Mickey watches, awe stricken, as Ian's eyes finally open. 

He looks utterly wrecked. Drunk or something. His eyes are unfocused, blinking slowly. His mouth opens and closes like he wants to say something, but doesn't know what.

Mickey's whole body relaxes, the Pull aching in his chest, expanding so fast it feels like he's about to burst wide open. It flows out of him, blanketing his lover in warmth and adoration. 

"Jesus fucking Christ, Ian." Mickey whispers fondly, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to Ian's bloody lips. 

"Mick, did it work?" Ian asks, voice gravely. 

"I don't know, you tell me." Mickey joked, the reality of the situation hitting him hard. 

He did it. Ian's back.

Ian sighed, smiling. "I feel good. Thirsty, but good." 

"Oh, I bet you're thirsty." Mickey chuckled. He threw himself down on top of Ian, pulling the other man close. He didn't give a shit about the mess of blood between them. 

It worked.  
Ian was Upir now.  
Anything was possible.

 

***

 

After getting Ian out of bed and into the bathroom, Mickey jumped in the shower behind him, turning the water up as hot as it will go. Ian won't feel the burn, not anymore. After the turn, it can be hard to regulate your temperature. Ian may burn his skin or end up with frostbite if he's not careful. Upirs are not made of stone, they are flesh and bone just like everyone else. They feel pain, just not on the same level as a human being. They get wounded and have to heal, albeit much more quickly than their human counterparts. 

It can be confusing. Ian will probably feel out of sorts for some time.

But Mickey will be right there to help him through it. 

"Mick, what now?" Ian asks, turning his back to his lover so Mickey could wash the blood out of his hair. 

"Well, I guess we'll just try to get you acclimated. Get you fed. Then we'll prepare for the claiming tomorrow, if you still want that." 

Ian's hand came up, stilling Mickey's fingers in his hair. He turned around in the small shower, smiling down at Mickey. He wrapped his long arms around Mickey's middle, dragging him close. Ian kissed him, slow and sweet, before pulling back just enough to give Mickey a little glare. 

"What do you mean, if I still want it? Of course I do. That's the whole reason we did this. So we could be mated." 

Mickey smiled, nodding. He still can't believe his luck. He's not going to pretend he understand how Fated Mates work, or how Ian came to be his one true mate, but he's fucking grateful. 

It's the one good thing to happen to him in his endless, bleak existence. 

"Good. Because that's all I've wanted since I first saw you." Mickey never was one to say those kinds of things. Spouting off about his feelings. But Ian has brought out a side of him he never knew he had. 

His mate deserves everything. He deserves a man who knows how special he is, and makes him feel as such. Mickey will say or do anything to ensure Ian knows how important he is. 

"I am so grateful to you, Ian. For giving your life to me. And I want you to remember, it's not just me claiming you as mine. It's me giving myself to you, body and soul. Once we are mated, there isn't anything I won't do to make you happy. No line I won't cross to keep you safe. As your maker and your mate, Ian, I am yours, in any and every way you could ever need or want." 

Ian's face fell, eyes wide. He's known Mickey for a while now, but he's still surprised by the shit that comes out of his mouth sometimes. 

He says things that hit Ian right in the gut, melting his heart and making his spirit soar. His love for Ian is like a tangible thing, filling all the space around them until Ian feels like he's breathing it in. 

Not that Ian's breathing all that much anymore. 

"I love you, Ian." Mickey murmurs into the small space between them. The Pull radiates between them, vibrating between their bodies, filling Ian with an indescribable ecstasy he's come to expect when he's near Mickey. "I've loved you since the moment you arrived in this life, and I will love you in the next and the one beyond that." 

Ian wants to cry, but finds his eyes oddly dry. Instead he just chokes out a wet noise, pulling Mickey against his chest and kissing him harder than he ever has before. His tongue plunges into Mickey's mouth, parting his smiling lips. 

"I love you too." Ian mutters between kisses. "Fuck, Mick. I love you so much." 

 

***

The sun is up now, and Ian has to wonder how much time has passed. It looks like mid-morning outside, and Ian is a little shocked that his turn took so long. It felt like an instantaneous moment, but in reality hours had gone by. 

Ian sat in the living room of the new house, looking around the space. It's all still new to him, but he can't help but feel like he's seeing it all for the first time right now. 

It's hard to pinpoint what's different, but everything feels just the slightest bit off. Colors are brighter, angles are sharper. He can hear a bird in a tree outside, even though all the windows are closed. A strange scratching noise coming from somewhere in the yard. Ian stands from the couch, moving toward the window. He looks out through the glass, but doesn't see anything. 

He sees particles floating in the air, which is odd in and of itself. Millions of them, just floating on a breeze that isn't blowing. 

"Mick?" Ian calls out. 

Mickey wanders in from the kitchen, dropping his phone on the coffee table and wandering over to Ian by the window. 

They'd finished their shower and came into the living room, dressed in sweats and wife-beaters. Mickey was ready to move on to step two of Ian's Upir transformation. 

"What's up?" Mickey asks, laying his head between Ian's shoulder blades and inhaling deeply. 

It will take time to get used to Ian's new scent. It's not nearly as warm as it was before. But it's still intoxicating. It actually smells like a mixture of Ian's natural scent and Mickey's Upir scent. Mickey buries his face in Ian's back, intensely pleased that Ian's Upir scent will always smell like Mickey, his maker. 

A swell of possessive pride wells up in Mickey's chest. He likes that idea very much. Let everyone know who Ian's mate is. 

"Um, do you see that? Or hear that noise?" Ian points out the window and Mickey lays his chin on Ian's shoulder so he can look outside. His ears perk up too, listening for whatever has Ian concerned. 

"Well, that's just some pollen." Mickey shrugs. "And that noise? A mouse. Out back in the stones of the fire pit, I think." 

Ian turned in Mickey's arms, resting his hands on Mickey's hips. He was giving Mickey such a confused look, Mickey had to physically restrain himself from laughing. 

"Are you telling me I can see individual particles of pollen? And hear a single mouse hundreds of yards away?" 

Mickey nodded, finally giving in to the urge to chuckle. Ian was adorable. 

"Well, yeah. We have incredibly strong senses. Wait 'til you hear a human heartbeat for the first time. We can see better, smell better, hear better. We're faster, stronger, harder to hurt. We also have incredible intellect. I learned Spanish in one afternoon. There's so much I have to show you, Ian. I can't wait."

Ian just gapes at Mickey. He knew, of course. Mickey had told him all about being Upir before Ian decided to make the change. But hearing about it and actually living it are two totally different things. 

"Mick, does this mean....my medication...." Ian can't even finish the sentence. He knows what Mickey told him. But it just seems so insane. So far outside the realm of reality. 

But...he is an undead blood drinker now. So who is he to say what constitutes reality anymore?

"Your medication is no longer necessary, Ian." Mickey replied, unable to temper his smile. "Those old human limitations are just a memory now. And in a hundred years, you won't even remember that. You were never sick in my eyes, Ian, you've always been perfect to me. I do know that it was a limitation that bothered you a great deal, caused you a lot of pain. But now, you are truly free of all that." 

Ian's mouth fell open in shock. Once again, he felt like crying, but no tears came.

Ian's overwhelmed. So much is happening so fast. He has so many questions. 

And he's so, so thirsty....

"Mick, I'm.." Ian starts, but stops mid sentence when he hears a new noise. His head whips toward the window, his ears perking up. 

Tires.  
A car. 

He parts the curtains, his eyes flitting wildly around the yard. He's still on edge after the shit with the Order, understandably. He's not sure how long it will take before he's not always afraid anymore. 

Unsurprisingly, becoming Upir hasn't erased Ian's anxiety. 

He doesn't see anyone in the yard, confusing him further. 

"Mick, do you hear that?" Ian asks, glancing back at his boyfriend, concerned. 

"Yeah, they're not here yet." Mickey shrugs, walking up to the window. He stands next to Ian, curling his arm around Ian's waist. "You'll learn to gauge the distance with time. That car is about a quarter mile away. She should be here soon." 

"She?" Ian replies, growing more perplexed by the moment. 

"Yeah." Mickey nodded. He grabbed Ian's hand, pulling him toward the sofa. "Come sit. I want to try something." 

Ian follows, even though he has no idea what's going on. He sits on the sofa, and Mickey kneels down in front of him. Mickey places his hands on Ian's thighs, looking up at him fondly. 

"Close your eyes." Mickey says quietly. Ian obeys without question. "Now listen. What do you hear?" 

Ian lets out a slow breath, quieting his mind and focusing. "Tires. A car." 

"Good." Mickey says, "Now keep listening. Tell me when that changes." 

Ian's brow furrowed, unsure. He listened to the car as it got closer and closer. Then he heard it. The engine cut off and the door opened. Someone stepped out. 

"A person." Ian said. 

"Just one?" Mickey asks. At first, Ian's not sure what he means, but then he hears it. 

Footsteps. 

"Yeah." Ian nods, eyes still closed. "Just one." 

"Good." Mickey replies, and Ian can hear the smile in his voice. "Is it a woman or a man?" 

The question catches Ian off guard, and he doesn't know how to answer. "Mick, I don't know..." 

"That's okay, you'll get it." Mickey promises. He reaches out, running his fingers through Ian's hair, soothing him. "You hear those footfalls?" when Ian nodded, he continued. "Here how light they are? Like whoever it is doesn't weigh all that much?" 

"So it could be a woman, or a tiny dude." Ian laughs. He's not sure how any of this matters. 

"Yeah, I guess." Mickey chuckled. "But the more you practice, the better you'll get. You hear that second little snap when they walk?" 

Ian pinched his eyes shut tighter, straining to hear. 

There is was. The step sounded like it was in two parts. Click click. 

Huh. Weird. 

"That means whoever it is, they're wearing a shoe with a heel. Hear it?" Mickey's never had to teach anyone how to be Upir. It came naturally to his family. So this was well out of his comfort zone. 

He only hopes he's up to the task of teaching Ian. He wants to be good for his mate. He wants to help Ian become the best Upir he can be. 

Ian's brow is furrowed as he concentrates on the sound of the approaching person. Surprisingly, he can tell that they are almost to the door now. A strange sort of pride fills him. 

Then he hears it. 

"Mick...." Ian whispers, his mouth watering. 

How strange. 

"Keep your eyes closed." Mickey says quietly. "You hear it, don't you?" he grins when Ian nods. "You hear how fast it is? That means this person is excited or nervous. Does that make sense?" 

Ian nodded again, although the fact that he can hear a human heartbeat from this kind of distance makes no sense at all. 

Ian opens his mouth to ask another question, but a knock to the door derails his thoughts. 

"That's our guest." Mickey says, patting Ian on the cheek and walking toward the door. 

Ian opens his eyes, more confused than ever. Guest? 

When Mickey opens the door, Ian almost falls over. 

The scent of this person is so strong, their heartbeat so loud. Ian's mouth is watering again. His teeth and gums feel strange. Numb? Maybe. 

It's all so weird, Ian doesn't even stand when the girl walks into the living room, Mickey trailing behind her with an unreadable expression on his face. 

"Mick?" Ian starts, but Mickey cuts him off, sitting next to him on the couch and grabbing his hand. He threads their fingers together, giving Ian a reassuring smile. 

"Ian, this is Devin. She's a family friend. In the way that Katie and Luke are." Mickey says. It's probably best to be straight forward, but finds he wants to ease Ian into this. 

Not that there's an easy way. Not really. 

Devin laughs, and Ian can feel her heartbeat picking up again. 

So strange. 

"I'm a blood donor." the girl, Devin says, taking a step forward. With the motion, another wave of her scent washes over Ian. She smells good. Clean and crisp. Ian can somehow tell she doesn't drink or do drugs. She doesn't smoke. "Although I usually don't make house calls this early in the morning. I am doing you a solid, since I heard it was your first time." she winked at Ian, smiling deviously. 

Ian barely registers what this woman is saying, so overwhelmed by her scent, and the sound of her heart thudding in his ears. 

It's such a odd sensation, Ian is utterly at a loss. 

Ian just stares at her, and she gives him a sympathetic smile before turning to Mickey. "You didn't tell him I was coming, did you?" 

"No." Mickey said. "I didn't know how to broach the topic." 

"Mick, what the hell is going on?" 

Mickey sighed, turning to face Ian. He grabbed his other hand, clasping Ian's hands together within his own. "You need to feed, Ian. Before the claiming, you need to be at peak energy levels. It is a very intense process, and once we get into it, it can go on for hours, if you know what I mean." Mickey gave Ian a meaningful look and the other man blushed. 

"Oh." 

"Yeah." Mickey replied, smiling. He knows he's gone over all this with Ian before, but he's not surprised to find Ian confused and overwhelmed now that the time has come. 

"So, clearly we can't work on your mezmerization with Devin here, but there will be plenty of time for that later. Right now I just want you to get comfortable with the act of feeding. It can be jarring at first, but if we are going to get you out in the world feeding on strangers like the rest of our clan, you need to be confident. And you need to work on your control."

Ian nodded, glancing up at Devin. She had taken a seat in the recliner by the window. Now she sits there, just watching Ian and Mickey with a small smile or her face. Like this whole situation is just so amusing to her.

"Now, it's going to be hard at first, very hard. That's why I thought trying it out here, in a controlled environment, with me here to help would be our safest bet. Devin understands the risks, and she's being suitably compensated." 

Ian's eyes went wide as he glanced over at the girl again. Blood hooker, then. How odd. 

Devin was a nice looking girl. Thin with wide hips, accentuated by the tight red dress she's wearing. Her blond hair is twisted atop her head in an intricate braid, little gems dotting the plait. Her nails are painted black and she's got little tattoos dotting along all her exposed skin. She's wearing Mary Jane shoes with a chunky heel and Ian remember the sound they made on the driveway. 

Click-click. 

This whole scenario was insane. 

"Don't worry, Ian." Devin says, pulling Ian from his thoughts. "I've been doing this a long time for Mickey and his family. I trust him. So that means I trust you. You don't have to be nervous, this is all just another day at the office for me, okay?" she gave him a gentle smile and Ian found himself nodding even though he wasn't quite sure he agreed. 

What if something went wrong? What if he killed her? 

Mickey had told him every Upir kills someone, once in a while. Ian is not looking forward to that day. 

He sure as fuck hopes today's not that day. 

Ian wants to ask more questions. He needs to know more. 

But he finds those thoughts are overwhelmed with the all consuming thirst he has. The longer he sits across form Devin, accosted with her scent and overcome by the thudding of her heart, the less he can focus on anything else. 

"Mick...I need...." Ian starts, but he's unsure how to finish. 

Of course, Mickey knows just what he needs. 

"It's okay, Ian. We're gonna fix you right up, alright?" 

Ian nods, even though he's scared to death. 

Mickey motions for Devin to sit on the couch between them. She grins, walking over and dropping down next to Ian. Mickey crowds her on the other side. She sits back against the cushions, tilting her head to the side as she bared her neck to Ian. 

Mickey turned, leaning over Devin's body so he could look at Ian. "Okay, see how she's presenting her neck to you?" when Ian gave him a weak nod, he continued. "You can hear her heartbeat, but can you see it? Look at her neck." 

Ian darted his eyes down, gazing at Devin's neck. 

Holy shit. 

He could. He could see it, plain as day. The vein in her neck, pulsing with every beat of her heart. Ian's teeth hurt, and he found himself leaning in without meaning to. 

She smelled even better up close. Ian's not even sure what it is, but it's so enticing he can't help himself. He's nosing at her neck before he knows what he's doing. Inhaling deeply, he feels almost drunk. 

"See, you're a natural." Mickey's amused voice feels far away as Ian submits to his instincts. One of his hands come up, curling around the back of Devin's neck. His other arm snakes around her middle, pulling her flush against his body. Her skin is hot in contrast to his cool body. He can feel her heartbeat in her whole body, the thrum of her pulse beating through he veins. It only makes him thirstier.

He tilts her head to the side, sniffing around her neck until he finds the spot that just feels right. He doesn't wait for Mickey to say anything else, he's overcome with desire and he acts without thinking. Instincts he didn't even know he had kick in and he's moving on autopilot. 

He bares his teeth, moderately shocked when a hiss slips past his lips. He ignores it, however, too far gone to think of anything besides feeding. 

He sinks his teeth into Devin's throat, surprised by how natural it feels. She makes a choked out noise, twitching. Ian can feel Mickey on her other side, holding her still as he watches Ian closely. 

The sensation of his mouth filling with blood is off putting. It's hot, and thick and salty. 

But it's also fucking delicious. 

Ian closes his lips around the wound and sucks, pulling in more and more of the delectable liquid into his mouth. He swallows, and he feels the blood as it flows down his throat and settles warmly in his stomach.  


It's crazy, how quickly it effects him. It's like taking a hit of speed. His body feels like it's on fire, so hot he's almost buzzing with it. He feels like he's glowing. Tingling all over, sparks lighting off in his veins. He's hard a a rock, and that is just so weird. 

He doesn't have time to worry about it, though, too consumed by the act of feeding to consider anything else. 

Mickey watches carefully as Ian feeds for the first time. His mate is holding Devin close, his face buried in her neck. Small rivulets of blood are seeping out from between the wound and Ian's lips. Devin is a pro, she stays completely motionless, breathing slowly as Ian takes his fill. Mickey is proud of him, he's behaving so well right now. 

But when it's time to cut him off, things go a little sideways. 

Devin starts coughing, and Mickey knows it's time to stop. He can read a human host well, and coughing is the first sign of trouble. If he doesn't stop Ian now, Devin could pass out, or worse. 

"Ian, enough." Mickey murmurs, standing and placing his hands on Ian's shoulders. Ian doesn't let up, however. A muffled growl slips past his bloody lips as he pulls Devin closer with the arm twisted around her waist. Devin glances up at Mickey with worried eyes and Mickey just shakes his head. 

"It's fine." he says quietly. He grabs Ian under the arms and pulls hard, sending them both flying backwards. They land on the floor in a heap, Ian's weight crushing Mickey against the far wall. 

"Fuck." Mickey mutters, rolling Ian off him and placing him gently on the ground. Ian glances up at him, confused. Like he just broke out of a trance. 

Which he kind of did. 

"Mick, what happened?" 

"You, my dear, just got your first taste of high quality human blood." Devin chuckles, plucking a handkerchief out of her purse and pressing it gently to the wound on her neck. "I'm not surprised you didn't want to stop." 

"Did I hurt you?" Ian asks, voice low. He turned to Mickey, crestfallen. Mickey gave him an easy grin, shaking his head. He stood from the floor before offering his mate his hand. Ian took it and Mickey lifted him from the floor easily. 

"I'm fine." Devin insisted. She gave Ian a genuine smile before turning to Mickey. "I have to say, he did quite well, considering." 

Mickey nods, proud of Ian. 

"What do you mean? I couldn't stop. I could have hurt you." Ian feels awful. All he could hear was Mickey's voice as he was feeding. 

'Ian, enough.' 

But in the moment, Ian hadn't wanted to stop. He wanted to drain Devin until her blood was his blood, until she was his entirely. 

Ian didn't like that feeling. 

"Ian, newborn Upirs are almost impossible to stop when they are in the middle of feeding." Mickey said, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. "I was prepared to physically fight you if I had to. To keep Devin alive. But all I had to do was pull you off, and you snapped out of your feeding frenzy. That's impressive indeed. Iggy killed a dozen people before he mastered feeding without killing. I am excited about teaching you mesmerization. I assume you'll be a natural at that too." 

Ian just gaped at Mickey, confused once more. He watched as Mickey pulled two crisp hundred dollar bills form his wallet and passing them to Devin. Devin took them with a smile before grabbing her purse and making her way over to the door. She stopped with her hand on the knob, turning toward the couple still seated in the living room. 

"I like him, Mickey." Devin said, smiling deviously at Ian. "Call me if you need help again, but I don't think this one is gonna have much of a problem." she winked at Ian before turning her back on the men and walking out of the house. 

Ian sat on the couch, quiet as he processed what had just happened. 

He'd fed off a human being. He'd drank blood. He enjoyed it, even. He doesn't know how to feel about any of it. 

He'd known it was going to be an adjustment, but he didn't anticipate having all these crazy feelings about it. 

Then there was the most confusing part of the whole scenario. 

When Mickey sat down next to him on the couch, curling his smaller body around Ian's frame, Ian knew he had to ask. 

"Mick, when I was feeding, I got kinda..." 

"Hard?" Mickey asks, seemingly reading his mind again. Ian wonders if that's just how Mickey is, or if it has to do with them being Fated. 

He'll have to ask him later. 

"Yeah." Ian replied, nodding. He buried his face in Mickey's hair, inhaling deeply. Mickey smelled so good. Different than before. It was so much stronger, deeper, and incredibly more enticing than ever.  


Ian wants to devour him. 

"I, uh, never got hard around a girl like that before." Ian muttered, feeling oddly ashamed. 

Mickey's laugh surprises Ian. He pulled back to find his lover grinning at him. 

"What's so funny?" 

"Ian, getting hard while feeding is normal for Upirs. That's why so many Upirs feed while fucking. You think we do that just cuz it's fun?" 

"Well, yeah." Ian said. "I guess I never really thought about it before. I thought it was just something you did with me."

Mickey sighed, running his fingers along Ian's jaw. "It was much better with you, my love, but it's just part of who we are. But don't worry, you'll get better at controlling that too, just like everything else. Soon, you'll be able to breathe it down, and it won't be a problem. I know it can be embarrassing, especially if you are just trying to feed, and not get your rocks off." 

"So, like, how are we going to feed? I mean, how did you usually do it before me?" 

Ian can see something like embarrassment flicker through Mickey's eyes. He glances away quickly before looking back at Ian. 

"Gay clubs, mostly." Mickey replies quietly. 

"Oh." Ian says, unsure of what else to say. It's not like he didn't know Mickey was fucking other people when they met, but for some reason the idea of Mickey feeding off these strangers hurts worse than than the idea of him fucking them. 

"Ian, listen to me." Mickey said, curling his hand around Ian's jaw and bringing them eye to eye again. "When you are mated Upirs, things like sex with strangers does not mean the same thing as it does to humans. Feeding from strangers or sleeping with strangers means little when you are spending eternity with your Fated Mate. I don't know if you and I will ever reach that point. But it's common for mated Upirs to share humans, in the bed or as a meal." 

Ian's mouth fell open in shock. Of all the bizarre shit he's heard about Upir life, this hits him hard. He's not sure if he's intrigued or disgusted. The idea of sharing Mickey with anyone sets his teeth on edge, but he can't say how he'll feel in ten years, or thirty. 

"I, um, I don't know what to say to that." Ian replied honestly. This information dump he's receiving since his turn feels like too much. He's overwhelmed again, confused and a little scared. 

It's a lot to take in. 

"I'm not saying I want to have some kind of weirdo gay blood orgy, Ian." Mickey chuckles, taking in his lover's stricken face. "I'm just saying we may get to a point where we want to kill all birds with a single stone, you know what I mean?" 

Ian nodded, even though he really didn't understand. 

Time. He needs time. To adjust to all this shit. 

"Do you feel better? Now that you've fed?" Mickey asks, appraising Ian's demeanor. 

Ian nodded. It's true. He did feel a lot better. Like he could do anything. Full of energy, all cylinders firing. Synapses making connections, his body tight and ready for anything. 

"Yeah, I really do." Ian smiled. "Feel fucking great." 

Mickey's expression softened as he leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. He closed his eyes, surrendering to Ian's energy. 

The Pull throbbed between them, swirling around them like a storm. 

"I'm glad." Mickey whispered into the space between them. "I don't want you to ever suffer." 

Ian smiled at him, closing the small distance between them and kissing Mickey softly. Mickey hummed, his lips parting for Ian's tongue. 

Ian licked into Mickey's mouth, nipping gently at his lips. Mickey kissed back in earnest, delighting in the taste of Ian's mouth. Everything about him was so alluring, Mickey just couldn't get enough. 

Mickey pulled back, resting their foreheads together once more. Their eyes met and Ian smiled. 

"What now?" Ian asks, curling his fingers around Mickey's hips. 

"I thought you could just rest today. And tomorrow I could claim you." Mickey's words are soft, uncertain. He's not sure why he's feeling so unsure. Like any moment Ian is going to change his mind. Abandon him. 

Ian, for his part, isn't too keen on waiting any longer.

"Why can't we do it now?" Ian asks, taking Mickey by surprise. Mickey pulls back, looking into Ian's eyes. He looks so sure, not a hint of doubt in him. 

"Ian, are you sure? You've only been Upir for a couple hours. It can be a lot to process." 

Mickey wants to claim Ian, of course he does. It's all he's wanted since they shared their first kiss. But he doesn't want to overwhelm Ian, or push him too fast. 

"Mickey, I want you. I've wanted you for months now. To truly belong to you. To have you belong to me. I want to do this as soon as possible. So we can start our life together. I don't want to wait or put it off or do any more god damn considering. I'm ready." 

Mickey just stared at him, his lips curling into a small smile. 

"Besides," Ian says, gripping Mickey by the hips and pulling him to straddle his waist. Mickey comes easily, parting his legs over Ian's lap and settling on top of him. "If I don't get to fuck you soon, I may just die after all." 

Mickey laughed hard, throwing his head back and howling at the ceiling. 

"What?" Ian asks, digging his fingers into Mickey's hips. "I've had blue balls twice today. I am not going to last another twenty four hours without getting off." his hands trailed down Mickey's sides, coming around to cup his ass. "I fucking want you, Mick. And if claiming takes place during sex, I don't see why we don't just kill two birds with one stone. Like you said, remember?" 

Mickey chuckles again. This asshole is gonna be the death of him. "Okay, tough guy. If you think you can handle it so soon after the turn, who am I to say you can't? You shocked the shit outta me just now with Devin. Your control is already better than Iggy's. I have a feeling you're going to be full of surprises." 

Ian grinned up at him, waggling his eyebrows. "Oh, baby, you have no idea." with that, he curled his hands under Mickey's thighs and stood from the couch, easily supporting his lover's weight as he walked them toward the bedroom. 

Ian's right. Mickey has no idea. 

But he can't wait to find out.

 

***

 

Ian is standing by the bed, still and silent as his mate stands before him. Mickey's face is expressionless, but Ian can feel the Pull pulsing between them, giving away Mickey's emotions. 

Love. Adoration. Lust. 

Ian is feeling very much the same as he lifts his arms so Mickey can pull his shirt up and off him. Once his chest is bare, Mickey leans down, kissing his neck, then his chest. Mickey falls to his knees in front of Ian, fingers digging into his hips as he noses along the waistband of Ian's jeans. Ian is already hard, even though Mickey hasn't done a god damn thing yet. Ian supposes it has something to do with the gravity of the situation. 

So much has happened in the past six hours, and it's about to get even more intense. 

Mickey explained to him that the claiming is pretty straight forward, just like the turn was. Now that Ian is Upir like Mickey, the claiming can happen. All they have to do is feed from each other during sex, and they will be Mated for real. Not just in name or feeling. Their bond will be eternal, unbreakable. 

That is something Ian didn't think he'd ever have. Now he can't imagine his life without it. Without Mickey. 

He's drawn out of his thoughts by the sound of Mickey unzipping his pants. He's been here once today already, but this situation will have an entirely different outcome. Mickey slides his jeans and boxers over his ass and down his legs. Ian steps out, and Mickey throws his pants across the room. 

Ian looks down at his lover, smiling as the Pull wells up in his chest again. The feeling is so intense, Ian doesn't think he'll ever get used to it. Mickey smiles up at him, eyebrows raised as he grips his erection in his right hand. Mickey drags his fingers up and down the shaft, immensely pleased when Ian stutters out a low moan. 

Mickey jerks his cock a few more times before leaning forward and closing his lips around the head. Ian grunts, his hands flying up to Mickey's head. He threads his fingers through Mickey's dark hair, pulling tight as Mickey bobs his head enthusiastically. 

Mickey will never tire of this. Ian's flesh tastes even better after the change. The hint of precome is like fucking magic on his tongue. Everything about Ian is perfect to Mickey, but this goes beyond all that. 

Mickey is already leaking in his jeans, so hard he feels like his dick is about to split in half. He doesn't move to touch himself, though, too consumed with pleasing his mate. He takes Ian deep into his throat, working his tongue along the underside as Ian slowly fucks his mouth. 

"Jesus, Mick." Ian mutters, using his tight grip in Mickey's hair to guide his movements. "Perfect fucking mouth. You're perfect." 

Mickey's heart swells at the praise and he redoubles his efforts. He takes Ian as deep as he can, not bothering to breathe as he swallows around his dick. 

"Fuck. Mick. Stop." Ian chokes out, using the fist in his hair to pull Mickey off his cock. Mickey sways on his knees, smiling up at Ian. He wipes a hand down his mouth, cleaning up the mess of spit and precome before Ian hooks his hands under Mickey's arms and lifts him from the floor. 

Mickey is surprised by Ian's strength, even though he shouldn't be. Newborn Upirs are very strong. Still, it's a shock when Ian lifts him clear off the floor and easily tosses him onto the bed. Mickey lands on the mattress, bouncing dangerously before settling on the tangled bedclothes. Ian is grinning down at him, all predatory, and Mickey's dick twitches in anticipation. 

Upir Ian is sexy as fuck. 

Ian stands at the end of the bed, stroking his cock, his eye drinking in the site of Mickey shedding his clothes. He pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor before dropping onto his back to get rid of his pants. He wriggles out of them as quickly as possible, kicking them off the edge of the bed before settling heavily on his back. His chest was heaving, even though he didn't need to breathe. 

He was just so overwhelmed. He can't recall the last time he'd been this keyed up. Ian brings that out of him, but it's never been this intense. The Pull has taken on a life of it's own, completely overriding Mickey entirely. He can't think, he can't speak. He can't focus on anything beside Ian. 

He's too far away. 

"Come here." Mickey says, voice rough. Ian gives him that 'hunter' grin again, and Mickey's body is wracked with a rare shiver. 

Ian's eliciting all kinds of odd responses today. 

Ian crawls over Mickey's body, running a gentle hand along his thigh, up his side, finally coming to rest on the side of his neck. He settles his full weight on top of Mickey, pressing their hard cocks together as he dips his head down for a passionate kiss.

Mickey moans in the back of his throat, thrusting up against Ian's massive cock. Ian groans, rolling his hips. Mickey's back arches, his head thrown back as he curls his legs around Ian's narrow hips, pulling him as close as possible.

Ian buries his face in Mickey's neck, licking a long stripe from his collar bone to behind his ear. His teeth have that odd, numb quality to them again, and he has to restrain himself from biting too soon. 

Not now. 

"Mick." Ian mumbles into Mickey's neck. "I want you." 

"Yeah." Mickey nods, dragging his nails up Ian's back. He cups the back of Ian's head, tangling his fingers in his gorgeous red hair, pulling their mouths together again. Ian's tongue dips into Mickey's mouth, tasting his lover's lips. 

God, he's fucking delicious. 

Ian's never tasted a person like this before. But Mickey literally tastes delectable. Like a rare delicacy Ian's never had the pleasure of partaking in before. 

He can't get enough. 

He curls one hand around Mickey's back, cupping his ass cheek as he rocks against him. Mickey thrusts up against him, grunting. 

"C'mon." Mickey urges. 

Ian doesn't hear him, though. He's so overwhelmed, he's lost in a sea of sensation. Mickey's scent is making him dizzy, his taste is getting him drunk. The pressure in his groin and the sweet sting of Mickey's nails biting into his flesh. It all coalesces until Ian can't tell up from down. 

Mickey is too worked up to wait him out, however. He tightens his thighs around Ian's hips and rolls, pulling Ian with him as he tumbles sideways on the bed. He ends up perched on top of a shocked Ian, grinning down at him. 

"I said come on." Mickey snarks, swirling his hips on Ian's rigid dick. Ian gasps at the sensations, his hips bucking on their own accord. 

"Mick, I gotta prep you." Ian whines as Mickey leans over his taut body, running his tongue along Ian's chest slowly. Ian shivers as Mickey's lips close around one of his nipples. The sharp bite of his teeth is a surprise, and Ian's back bows off the bed. 

"See, now I know you never listen." Mickey chuckled, tilting his head up to lock eyes with Ian. "I told you I don't actually need prep. It's a fun little trick for nights when extended foreplay is called for, but on nights like tonight..." Mickey trails off, reaching behind himself and grabbing Ian's dick in a tight fist. 

Ian moans, his eyes slipping closed as Mickey positions his cock against his hole and sinks down in one quick, fluid motion. Once he's fully seated, he swirls his hips, making room for his lover inside his body. 

"Holy shit, Mickey." Ian gasps. "You're amazing." 

Mickey laughs, rolling his hips slowly. "You're not so bad yourself, kid." 

Ian chuckles, his hand moving to Mickey's hips as his lover starts bouncing in his lap. 

Mickey throws his head back as he builds a strong rhythm. He grinds down on Ian's dick before going back to popping his ass up and down. Ian is writhing underneath him, his hands grasping at every inch of flesh he can reach. 

Ian's fucked Mickey countless times at this point, but his lover never fails to surprise him. Mickey is owning his dick right now, utterly wrecking Ian. His own hard cock bobs away from his body with each downward thrust, dripping so much it leaves a little pool of precome on Ian's stomach. He wants to lick it up.

Ian's eyes take in the scene before him, utterly mesmerized by Mickey's lithe body rocking on top of his own. Mickey looks so good, so blissed out. His head back, his mouth hanging open. Little huffs and groans slip past his lips, slicing straight through Ian and settling in his gut. 

He's close already, which would usually be embarrassing. 

But not this time. 

Ian knows for a fact this is not the last time they will do this before the day is done. 

"Mick, I'm close." Ian chokes out, his fingernails digging into the plump meat of Mickey's ass. Mickey groans, pushing back against the sensation. 

"Okay." Mickey mutters, leaning over Ian's body. He kisses him hard on the mouth, tongues tangling outside their mouths. "You remember how this works?" Mickey backs off just enough so they can look into each other's eyes. 

Ian nods. He knows what he has to do. 

He thought he would be more nervous, but after coming back from the dead earlier in the day, he finds he's pretty much ready for anything.

"Okay then." Mickey grinned, kissing Ian fiercely once more. "Ready?" 

Ian nods again. 

Mickey blinks down at him, overcome in the moment by how much he loves Ian. 

His mate. 

Ian gives him a warm smile, and Mickey knows, now is the time. 

The Pull swirls inside him, pouring out of him and blanketing Ian in ecstasy and passion. Ian groans, instinctively throwing his head to the side. Mickey noses along his mate's throat, his instincts on fire as he searches out the perfect spot. 

It's hot under his tongue, Ian's skin on fire in anticipation. Mickey wastes no time, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of Ian's throat. 

His lover gasps, bucking his hips up into Mickey's body. Mickey fucks himself on Ian's cock as he takes his fill from his throat. 

It's not like it was before the turn. Mickey doesn't have to worry about hurting Ian. So he rides him hard, drinking deeply until Ian's blood fills his body, and Ian's spirit fills his soul. 

Once he's full, he pulls off with a gasp. Ian smiles up at him, all love sick and fond, before flipping them quickly. Mickey lands on his back hard on the mattress, and Ian wastes no time in resuming their love making. He pounds into Mickey, reveling in the harsh sounds of skin slapping and the bed creaking. 

"Ian, now." Mickey groans, baring his neck for his mate. 

Ian growls, burying his face in Mickey's neck as he fucks into his tight body. Mickey is a moaning mess, the heat of the sex mixed with the intensity of the mating is otherworldly, and Mickey feels like he's floating.

The first bite of Ian's teeth is enough to having Mickey coming all over himself and Ian's chest. His body is wracked with wave after wave of pleasure as he loses himself in the feeling of Ian feeding from him for the first time. 

Mickey blood tastes divine. Devin's blood may as well have been watered down Tang in comparison. Ian feels instantly drunk, utterly debauched on his lover, and the gift he's given him.

He pounds into Mickey relentlessly, lips still sutured to Mickey's neck as he nears his end. 

Ian pulls back, gasping. He plants both hands above Mickey's head as he chases his orgasm. Mickey stares up at him, sated and loopy. He knows he's a special kind of sick because glancing up at his mate and seeing him covered in Mickey's own blood turns him on so much. His dick makes a valiant effort at the visual, but not even Upirs have that good a refraction period. 

"Mick, Mick, fuck." Ian babbles, stilling deep inside Mickey and filling him with his release. He shivers through the aftershocks, collapsing on top of Mickey in a heap. He pulls out, but doesn't move to get off Mickey, content to just smother him with his body. 

Mickey chuckles, comforted by Ian's heavy weight on top of him. Ian snuggles into Mickey's neck, nosing along his open wound like a weirdo. 

Suddenly, he's sniffing. It's an odd urge, but Ian can't seem to stop himself. Mickey smells different. 

Ian has always loved Mickey's scent, but in the few hours since he's been Upir, he's noticed a depth to Mickey's scent that he hadn't before. 

Now, after the mating, it's changed again. 

"Mick." Ian says lowly, sitting up on his elbows so he can look down at his lover. "You smell different." Ian's not sure how he feels about it. 

Mickey laughed lightly, smiling up at his lover. "Our scents have mixed, Ian." he replies, as if that would explain everything. 

"Huh?" Ian's perplexed look was enough to send Mickey into another little giggle fit. 

"Yeah, I noticed it earlier, after your change. Your scent and mine have sort of coalesced. We've become one, Ian. Fated mates. Now, for the rest of our existence together on this plane, we are joined, mind, body, soul, and scent." 

Ian smiled, nodding. Jesus, he's learned so much today. He has no idea how he's going to keep it all straight in his head. 

"I hope that's okay with you." Mickey murmured, reaching up to brush a lock of hair out of Ian's eyes. 

"Oh, it is." Ian replied, dipping his head down for another tender kiss. Their lips tasted like blood, and Ian found himself perversely turned on. 

His dick was getting hard again. He groaned, rolling his hips against Mickey's thigh, earning himself a muffled chuckle from his mate. 

"Yeah? You ready to go again, my little Upir lover?" Mickey laughed, gripping Ian's hair hard and pulling, bring their mouths together again. 

"I'll show you little." Ian laughed, shoving Mickey't thighs apart with his legs and entering him without warning. 

Mickey yelped, melting into the sensation of Ian moving inside him again. 

It was going to be a long night. 

Mickey can't wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to thank you guys for going on this journey with me. this was my first attempt at any kind of horror/fantasy type thing, and it was HARD. i wanted to try and keep them in character while thrusting them into this crazy new world. i appreciate all the kind words and kudos, you guys are the best.


	16. Life and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a year and a half, Ian and his new family return to Chicago. A lot has changed in the past eighteen months, and Ian is eager to see if he can merge his old life with his new one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this was supposed to be the final chapter of this fic, but the story took over and it ended up being nothing like what i've had planned for months now. my muse is a brutal mistress, but i must serve her. i can say with moderate conviction that the next chapter will be the final one. thanks for sticking with me.

Eighteen months. 

Ian has been gone from Chicago for eighteen months. 

It sounds like a long time, but time is just a abstract concept to Ian now. It has no real meaning, not anymore. 

That's not to say a lot hasn't changed in the past year and a half. Everything has changed. 

It took Ian longer than he wanted to get acclimated to his new reality. He'd been hopeful when he first turned that he'd be able to avoid the pitfalls of being a newborn Upir. He hoped he would be different than Mickey and his siblings, that he could master the change without issue. 

He was wrong. 

Ian killed three people before he learned to control his blood lust. Two hookers and a dancer at a gay bar in Bar Harbor. Ian had been devastated. Not even Mickey could soothe his anguish. He was a murderer. 

Ian had also almost turned someone. By accident, of course. In the chaos of a feeding frenzy, it's easy to cut yourself. Easy for that blood to seep into the mouth of your host. Ian had been horrified when Mickey stood up and snapped that guy's neck. 

No turning anyone. That's their clan's most important rule. 

Ian was inconsolable for weeks after that, confined to his bed, only ever moving to feed. Mickey would bring mesmerized hookers to the room, Ian would drink from them, and return to his bed, pulling the covers over his head, blocking out the world. 

It reminded him too much of his bipolar lows. For a while there, Ian had been convinced that his loathsome disorder had followed him across the mortal coil to cripple him even in his new state. 

But Mickey had promised him it would pass, and it did. Adjusting to his new reality, this new power of life, death and resurrection, it was a lot to take in. 

It got easier with time, and soon those missteps were just bad memories. Someday, decades from now, it will all be the ghost of a memory. 

Now, things are better. Much better. Better than Ian could have ever hoped to dream. 

They're going back to Chicago. Finally. 

Ian is in complete control of his powers. Secure in his new identity and ready to face the world again. Ready to face his family. 

He misses them so much. It has always been the Gallaghers against the world, and without his siblings, Ian feels like a shadow of himself. Lip is with him, but it's still not the same. 

He misses Fiona's incessant mothering. He misses Debbie's kind gestures. He misses Carl's specific brand of psychotic humor. He misses Liam's quiet company. He misses the south side and all the madness that comes along with it. Kev and Vee, the Alibi. It's just such a part of who he is, no matter how much he's changed in the past year. 

He's still Ian. And he misses his home. 

"You almost ready?" Mickey asks, wandering into their bedroom. He tosses another bag onto their bed, moving toward his dresser and throwing clothes over his shoulder. They land on the floor in a pile. 

Ian sighs, smiling. He leans down, picking up all of Mickey's discarded clothes, folding them efficiently and placing them in his duffel. 

"I am ready." Ian replies, glancing over his shoulder at his mate. Mickey is gorgeous. Everything about him is perfect. Made just for Ian, for all eternity. 

"You are not." Mickey said, tossing another pair of pants over his shoulder. Ian catches it mid-air, folding it quickly and tucking it into the bag. "Where is the toiletry bag? You know we need to..." 

"Yes, yes. Extra snacks." Ian interrupted. He glides over to the bed, opening up the toiletry bag, showing Mickey the collection of blood bags. "I don't know how you plan on getting this through security." 

Mickey chuckled, zipping the bag back up. "Ian, my love. You should know by now, my powers of persuasion are all I need to get through airport security." 

Ian chuckled, gripping Mickey by the hips and spinning him so they are face to face. "I know. You big, strong, powerful Upir. I only hope that I can someday match your skills." 

Mickey rolls his eyes, pushing Ian off with a chuckle. "You are such a dick." 

Ian laughed, going back to his work. "Just sayin'. You're clearly better at all this shit than I am. I can barely get a mark to bend to my will. You have people fawning all over you, begging you to take them." 

"Is that jealousy I hear in your voice?" Mickey asks, grabbing up their bags and moving toward the door. 

"No." Ian sighed. "I just wish I could get a handle on this shit. It's been so long." 

"Ian, come on. It took me years to get where I am. Do you think I was reborn with all these skills? You've heard the stories. Remember? I told you about that first girl I tried to mesmerize. She died, because I wasn't strong enough to hold her under my spell. You're doing just fine. Don't be so hard on yourself, okay?" 

"Yeah, okay." Ian sighed, following Mickey out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Everyone was already waiting for them outside.

Mandy and Iggy were already seated in the car. They were taking a rented Denali, since they weren't coming back any time soon. Lip and Kimi were standing outside the car, whispering to each other as Lip rubbed her swollen belly. 

"Can't believe we're going home." Ian said, glancing at his mate. "Can't believe we're bringing Lip's pregnant werewolf mate with us too." 

"Nothing surprises me anymore." Mickey replied. After everything they've gone through in the past year and a half, a werewolf pup is not all that much of a shock. 

"What's Fiona gonna say?" Ian wondered as they stowed their bags in the back and made their way to the front. There was no way in hell Mickey was letting anyone else drive. Not even to the airport. He takes his role as leader of the clan much more seriously now that Ian is part of it. Nothing can ever be left to chance. 

"Honestly, what Fiona thinks matters little, Ian." Mickey replied, sliding into the drivers seat. Lip helps Kimi in, pushing Iggy out of the back seat. 

"Women and children first." Lip said to Iggy, eyebrows raised. "Get your ass in the back." 

"God damn it." Iggy groused, giving Lip the finger before climbing into the open space in the back. "Why do I always end up back here?" 

"Don't be a bitch, Igg." Mickey laughed from the driver's seat. "Kimi is with pup, have a little respect." 

Kimi giggled, situating herself by the window, curling his fingers around her belly. "You know, my grandmother was wary of this match." she glanced up at Mickey, who was watching her in the rear view mirror. "Kept telling me I couldn't trust a shifter who consorted with the undead. But you have been so kind to me. Just goes to show you, those old stereotypes are untrue." 

"Don't be fooled, Kimi." Mandy replied, raising her eyebrows. "We're not like other blood drinkers."

"No, you're not." Kimi agreed, grinning. "Don't think I've ever met a gay Mannitoosh."

"Kimi, come the fuck on." Mickey groused as Ian giggled beside him. "No need to call me the devil. I don't believe in that shit, and neither do you." 

"I know." Kimi sing-songed. "I just like getting under your cold dead skin." 

Mickey groaned, which only caused Ian to giggle harder. Mickey glanced at Lip in the rear view mirror, taking in Lip's pompous smirk. "Of course you would choose to mate with a wolf that is just as prickly as you are." 

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Lip chuckled, leaning over his mate's swollen belly for a kiss. 

"Eh, enough of that shit." Iggy whined from the back. "The wolf pheromones in this car are making me nauseous." 

That got a laugh from the Upirs in the car, and a smack in the head for Iggy from Lip. 

The rest of the ride to the airport was full of shouting and laughing. Loud music and louder people. It's still a shock to Mickey, even after all this time. 

Before the Gallaghers blew into their lives like a bad storm, the Milkovich clan had been a dismal family. They loved each other, in that muted, unspoken way. They were a clan, a family of sorts, but they didn't bond or spend time together. They were a group of hunters, connected by blood and history. But no longer siblings in the traditional sense of the word. 

All that changed after Mickey came across the Gallagher brothers that fateful night. Slowly, almost insidiously, Ian and Lip had wormed their way into Mickey's family and promptly turned everything on it's head. 

Mickey found himself and his siblings doing things they'd never even considered before. Simple, human things that Mickey and his family hadn't bothered to do since the sixties. Movie nights, walking in the park, playing pranks on each other, attending concerts and plays. Hell, Ian had even convinced them to institute a semi-regular game night. Fucking Pictionary. 

It was just so outside the realm of Mickey's reality. Just like everything else about Ian, it was just what he needed. Mickey has never felt more normal in all his existence. More like a real person, less like a murderous monster. 

Ian makes him feel whole. Ian makes him feel human. Ian makes him feel worthy of things like love and affection and family. 

Lip and Kimi's unlikely pairing had brought a whole new level of family togetherness to the Milkovich clan. Mickey had been worried that a Tribal Wolf mating with a Wolf with Upir ties might cause a war. Mickey had been preparing for battle, ready to destroy any Wolf that would threaten his clan. 

But Kimi's family had surprised him, yet again. Her grandmother had come to the cabin, toting all kinds of native treats. Treats Mickey couldn't eat, but he appreciated the sentiment just the same. She had welcomed the Milkovich clan into her family, just as she welcomed Lip and his unborn child. 

This kind of alliance with a Wolf Pack had never been achieved by any Upir clan in history. The Guild had even stopped by upon hearing the news, very keen on observing the tentative peace that had been reached by the Pack and the Milkovich clan. 

The Guild's brothers had been quite impressed. Mickey supposes a child can bring all different kinds of warring groups together. 

That's the whole reason for the return to Chicago. The baby is due in a few weeks, and Lip and Ian are desperate to be close to family when the little pup arrives. 

Mickey's still not certain if they will be able to stay or not. It's not just up to him anyway. Kimi belongs with her Pack. She has no idea what it's like to turn anywhere but at home. The pup will also need the support of it's Pack. The knowledge of the elders is key to raising a Wolf pup right. 

In the end, though, it's not his decision. He may be the leader of his clan, but he has no say over what Lip and Kimi do with their pup. 

Mickey pulls into a spot at the airport parking lot. He turns off the car, turning in his seat to glance at his ragtag family. Ian gives him a smile, reaching over to squeeze his hand. 

"Alright." Mickey says, drawing the attention of the group. "Up and out. We gotta flight to catch." 

His directive is met with unintelligible grumbling, but Mickey ignores it. It was a long drive, and it's going to be a longer flight. No reason to start useless arguments right now. 

They filter into the airport, Mickey in the lead. They make it through the first checkpoint just fine, but now that it's time for the second security check, Mickey takes a step back, glancing at Ian with the 'toiletry bag' in his hand. 

"You wanna give it a go?" Mickey asks, a little smirk splitting his lips. 

"Huh? Me?" Ian asks, his anxiety spiking. 

"Yeah, you." Mickey laughed, handing Ian the bag. "C'mon. You've been doing so well lately." 

"I dunno." Ian replied quietly. 

"Come on!" Iggy bellowed from the back of the line, eliciting a chuckle from Mandy and Kimi. Lip just crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes.

You really can't take Upirs anywhere.

"Shut it, Igg." Mickey barked, giving his brother a stern look before turning much softer eyes on Ian. "You can do it, Ian. Go ahead." 

Ian nodded, feeling more nervous by the moment. He's fucked up. Upirs are supposed to be confident. Nothing is supposed to phase him anymore. He's better than these humans. Stronger, faster, smarter. 

Then why does he feel so small? 

Okay, fuck it. He can do this.

He gives Mickey a little grin, pushing past him to get to the desk. A board middle aged woman is sitting at the counter, steadily glaring at Mickey and Ian. 

"Bag on the counter." she says, voice clipped. Ian complies, placing the toiletry bag on the counter. "Where is the rest of your luggage?" 

"We checked it." Ian replies, voice strong. He's already sending out his aura, and he can see it affecting the woman. The way her shoulders slump, her eyes glaze over, her mouth hanging open just a bit. 

"Okay." the lady says, her hands slowly moving to the zipper. As she slides the zipper open, Ian sends out as much energy as he can muster, blanketing the woman in his will. She and Ian both glance inside the bag. Ian can feel Mickey behind him, his hand on Ian's hip, offering silent support for this test of Ian's abilities. 

The bag is full of blood. Bags and bags of blood. Donated, of course. 

The woman makes a small sound of disgust, her face paling. Ian doesn't let up, though. He pushes his energy out, inundating the woman. He leans down to catch her eye. She stares at him, confused.

"This is our bag." Ian says quietly, making sure to maintain eye contact with the woman. "Nothing special inside. Basic things. For two GAY men." 

Mickey chuckles behind him. It's so like Ian to go off script. 

The woman blushes, closing the bag quickly. "I'm sorry, sir. It's policy to check these bags. I didn't mean to embarrass you. Those are quite...interesting toys." 

"Oh, no worries." Ian grinned back, pride swelling in his chest. Not only did he mesmerize her, he got her to see what he wanted her to see. His powers were constantly evolving, but forcing and innocent TSA agent to see a bag full of sex toys is next level, even for him. "We're not ashamed." 

The woman giggled like a little girl, Ian's energy still soaking into her bones. "Well, enjoy your trip, sir." 

"I intend to." Ian smiled, all predatory. He slapped Mickey's ass, giving the security agent one more lecherous grin before following his mate to their gate. 

"Really, Ian?" Mickey laughed as they stood in line to get on the plane. 

"He can't help himself." Lip chuckled from behind them. 

"I've created a monster." Mickey replied, shaking his head. 

Ian just laughed, wrapping his arms around Mickey's waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. "Your monster." 

"All mine." Mickey confirmed. "Forever." 

 

***

 

Something's not right. 

Fiona can feel it, deep in her bones. 

Something is not right, and she has no idea what it is or how to fix it.

She was elated when Ian and Lip informed her they were coming home. She was decidedly less excited when she discovered the Milkovichs would be joining them. 

Then she was horrified to hear they were only visiting. She had been certain they were coming home to stay. Looks like she was mistaken.

Not to mention the shocking news that Lip was bringing a pregnant girlfriend. Some Indian girl he'd never mentioned once in all their phone calls and Skype sessions. 

Now, sitting in awkward silence in the living room, watching her baby brothers fawn all over their significant others, she has to admit, they've changed more than she anticipated. 

She feels like she barely knows them anymore. 

How can eighteen months turn her brothers into strangers?

"So, Fiona, how have you been?" Ian asks, feeling the tension radiating in the room. He made Mickey promise not to mesmerize Fiona. He wanted to fix their relationship the old fashioned way. With conversation, and a fair amount of groveling. 

Fiona scoffed into her drink, rolling her eyes. "You mean how have I been since you took off in the middle of the night? Didn't even bother to call until weeks later? Or how have I been since you both quit your jobs to take up with these....these people?" 

"Fiona." Debbie said quietly, glancing between her siblings. 

"Don't, Debbie." Fiona said. She sat up, setting her drink on the coffee table. "You were just as hurt as the rest of us when they took off. Carl didn't even want to be here for this little reunion." 

"I talked to Carl already." Lip said, wrapping a protective arm around Kimi's shoulder. "We're gonna meet him for drinks later. Sounds more like he's avoiding you, not us." 

"Lip, come on." Ian said, shaking his head. He gave Mickey a rueful smile. Mickey just shrugged. Family drama was not new to him, but it's always a little awkward witnessing someone else's. 

"I just don't understand." Fiona said, hurt evident in her tone. "Everything was fine one day, and the next, you're never home, never even bothering to let me know you're okay. Then I wake up one morning and you're just gone. You have to admit, it's strange. And it didn't start until you met him." Fiona points an accusing finger at Mickey and the man hangs his head. 

He knows it must be confusing for her. She doesn't remember a thing about her kidnapping or Jacob. She has no recollection of the torture or the rescue. That is the way they had wanted it. Mickey and Ian, everyone involved. It was just so much easier to wipe her memory than to drag her into the dangerous world of the supernatural.

It did have it's drawbacks, however. 

Like this conversation right now. 

"I'm sorry, Fiona." Ian said, his heart breaking. "I know it was sudden, and we both feel terrible for leaving like that. But it was just something we had to do. For us, right Lip?" 

"Yeah." Lip agreed quietly. "Besides, we're back now, and you've got a new little buddy to look forward to." he rubbed his hand over Kimi's swollen belly, smiling wide. 

"You gonna tell me how that happened?" Fiona questioned, finally warming up a bit. 

As Lip told his sister the abridged version of how he met his mate, Mickey stood from the couch, waving a pack of cigarettes at Ian. Ian nodded, standing from the couch and following Mickey out to the front porch. 

Ian closed the door behind him, stepping up to Mickey and curling around his back. He snaked his arms around Mickey's middle, resting his chin on Mickey's shoulder. 

Mickey huffed out a little laugh, taking a drag off the cigarette before passing it to Ian over his shoulder. 

"You're awfully clingy tonight." Mickey observed. 

"Yeah, I know." Ian smiled, nuzzling his nose into Mickey's hair. "Guess being back here just makes me nostalgic, remembering how I first fell in love with you." 

Mickey laughed, placing his hand over Ian's. Ian took a drag off the cigarette, flicking it into the yard once he was done. 

"Hey, I wasn't finished with that." Mickey laughed, turning in Ian's arms. Ian grinned down at him, eyes sparkling. 

"There are better things we can do with our mouths." 

Mickey's responding laugh was cut off by Ian's lips. He kissed him hard, pinning him to the railing with his hips. Mickey's hands shot up, his fingers sinking into Ian's gorgeous red hair. It's longer than when they first met, but it will be this length forever now. Mickey likes it this way, just enough to hold onto. Pull and tug. 

Like right now. 

He twisted his fingers in Ian's hair, pulling his head back sharply. Ian groaned, his body tightening. Mickey grinned against Ian's throat, dragging his teeth along his skin. 

"God, what I wouldn't give to taste you right now." Mickey murmured, his tongue flicking out along the tender flesh. 

"Mick, c'mon." Ian whined, rolling his hips against Mickey's growing bulge. 

"Yeah, yeah. Family...blah blah blah." Mickey chuckled, regretfully stepping away. 

Ian laughed, shaking his head. "It's not just my family in there, Mick. Besides, I thought we were supposed to meet up with Lucas later." 

"Jesus, I can't believe you are pushing for this." Mickey sighed. "You know what he wants, right?" 

"Yeah, I do." Ian grinned, pulling Mickey to his chest again. He slid his hands down Mickey's back, curling his hands around Mickey's delicious ass. "I mean, we're mated now. Bonded for life. What's the point of a connection like that if we can't use it to our advantage?" 

"Spoken like a true Upir." Mickey chuckled. "I'm a proud sire." 

"Just sayin'..." Ian grinned, flexing his fingers on Mickey's ass. "We could do that whole 'two birds-one stone' thing you talked about back then. Now that I know you're mine forever, that old boring jealousy just doesn't exist for me anymore." 

Mickey laughed, shaking his head. How far his mate has come in such a short time. It usually takes newborn Upirs years to shed their old human inhibitions and embrace their new reality. Ian, however, seems to be adjusting remarkably well. 

Just the fact that he's suggesting a threesome feeding session, with one of Mickey's old lovers, is indeed a testament to how far he's come. 

"Are you sure?" Mickey asks, cocking his head to the side. "The last time we talked about this, you got all bent outta shape." 

Mickey remembers that conversation quite well. It wasn't long after Ian's turn, when Mickey had suggested they feed from some twink at a club that was hot for Ian. Feeding and sex go hand in hand for Upirs, and Mickey had stupidly assumed Ian would be on board. 

Ian was not quite there yet. Too new in the life, still learning about his bond with Mickey. Still not quite understanding what it meant to be mated for all time. 

"That was ages ago." Ian replied dismissively. "I get it now, Mick. What you meant about our bond. Nothing and no one can ever come between us. Some mortal touching your dick isn't going to effect us in any way. Just like some mortal's blood on my lips doesn't matter. What you and I have transcends all that mundane shit. Jealousy, insecurity, dishonesty. Those things can't touch us." 

"You're right." Mickey smiled. "They can't. You and I, Ian. For all eternity." 

Ian smiled down at Mickey, pulling their bodies flush together. He kissed his mate fiercely, plunging his tongue into his mouth. Mickey groaned, tightening his arms around Ian's neck, nipping at his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. 

Mickey ran his tongue over the wound, savoring the taste. 

"God, Ian." Mickey sighed. "Your blood is still the best thing I've ever tasted." 

"As it should be." Ian replied, regretfully stepping back. "C'mon, back inside. You know Fiona will just come looking for us." 

Mickey sighed, nodding. "She's being awfully protective. I'm legitimately worried she's not going to let you leave when the time comes." 

"She's still adjusting. Give her time." 

"Well, time is the one thing we have in abundance, so I suppose I could at least try." 

Ian laughed, pulling Mickey close. They kissed slowly, exploring each others' mouths like they had so many times before.

"Ian!" Fiona's loud voice broke them out of the moment. "Come in here!" 

Ian sighed, giving Mickey a little grin. Mickey smiled back, stepping aside so Ian could go back into the house, Mickey right behind him. 

This was going to be a long trip. 

 

***

 

"I made your favorite." Fiona said, smiling brightly. 

"Thank you." Ian and Lip say in unison, both of them immediately tucking into the lasagna Fiona had made. Kimi also dives in head first, her pup surely demanding nourishment. 

Mickey is slower to eat. He eats so little, only when he had to keep up appearances. He took a long sip of his wine, wishing it were something stronger.

The dinner is tense, just like Mickey anticipated it would be. 

Ian and Mickey were seated at the dining table. Across from them, Lip sat with Kimi. They were engaged in a private conversation, leaning close to one another, whispering in hushed voices. It was just the five of them, Mandy and Iggy having had the good sense to bail at the earliest opportunity. 

Mickey wishes he could have gone with them. He'd rather be anywhere but here right now. He may be an immortal killing machine, but he's not ashamed to say Ian's older sister scares him. He wishes Debbie was here. When the younger Gallagher is around, Mickey at least feels like he has one sibling in his corner. Debbie is a nice girl. Any time Mickey has interacted with her, she treats him with respect and kindness. 

He can't say that for Fiona. 

Mickey's not an idiot. He knows Fiona blames him for her family breaking up. He finds the whole feud ridiculous, seeing as Lip and Ian are grown adults. Did she honestly expect them to live at home forever? 

Mickey can't pretend to understand what Fiona is thinking, or how she feels about him or his role in her brothers' lives. He keeps telling himself it doesn't matter. How she feels or what she thinks of him. Ian has made his choice. 

Not that Ian should have to choose. He should be able to be Mickey's mate while maintaining a good relationship with his family. 

But Fiona doesn't seem to see it that way. She's got this odd 'all or nothing' mentality that Mickey just can't understand. 

He knows the conversation is coming before she even opens her mouth. Fiona is only human, after all, and pathetically predictable. 

She takes a long sip of her wine, placing the glass back down on the table and clearing her throat. "I wanted to talk while we're all here, just us." she starts, nervously glancing around the table. 

Lip sighs, leaning back in his seat. He throws a protective arm around the back of Kimi's chair, turning to give her a reassuring smile. Kimi smiles back, seemingly unphased by Fiona's serious tone. 

Mickey on the other hand is instantly wary. He can sense Fiona's tense mood. It's part of his Upirism, the ability to sense when someone is anxious or nervous. In another situation, this would make Fiona easy prey.

In this situation, it only makes her a bit of an annoyance. 

Ian is also leaning closer to Mickey, laying a hand on his thigh under the table. Mickey appreciates the gesture. It's clear both of them could use the contact right now.

"What, Fiona?" Lip asks when his sister doesn't speak. 

Fiona dips her head, staring at the table in front of her for a long while. No one says anything. They just sit, waiting for her to grow some balls and speak her mind. Finally, after Mickey has finished his wine and poured himself another glass, Fiona looks up, a steely determination in her gaze. 

"I want the both of you to come home." she says, voice hard. "Whatever is going on here, I don't accept it." she glances over at Kimi. "You seem like a nice girl, but I had no idea you even existed until this morning. I have a hard time believing my brother would keep something this big from me. How far along are you?" 

"About six months." Kimi replied, her brow furrowed. Mickey watched Lip curl his fingers around his mate's shoulder in reassurance. 

Fiona nodded, glancing over toward Lip. "Lip, are you sure this baby is yours?" she asks, shocking the whole table. 

"Fiona, what the fuck?" Ian spat, horrified. 

"What?" his sister shot back. "You remember Karen, don't you? She lead us all on for months, had us believing that was Lip's baby. Then the little fuck came out Chinese." 

"I can't believe you'd bring that up." Lip growled. "And how dare you compare Kimi to Karen?" 

"How am I supposed to know?" Fiona retorted. "I don't KNOW her. I don't know shit about her or her family. You just show up her with a pregnant Indian and expect me to be cool about it." 

"Indian is kind of racist, Fiona." Mickey commented, eyebrows raised. "Kimi is Native American." 

"Who asked you?" Fiona replied hotly. "Who even are you? I knew you were trouble the moment you popped up in my brother's life. I don't know shit about you either, except you're independently wealthy, and obsessed with my brother. How do you make this money? Are you a mobster? Arms dealer? Drug kingpin?" 

"Okay!" Ian huffed, swiping his sister's wine glass. "I think you've had enough." 

"No, Ian, it's fine." Mickey replied calmly. He placed his glass down on the table, crossing his arms on the table and locking eyes with Ian's older sister. "I know this must be hard for you. I know Ian and Philip left suddenly, and you feel like you've lost them. But that is not the case at all. I love Ian, and I want him to be the happiest he can be. He can't be happy without you in his life. That is why we are even here right now." Mickey turned to his mate, reaching for his hand and interlacing their fingers on the tabletop. "That being said, this line of questioning is not only invasive, it's incredibly rude. Ian is an adult. Lip is even older than him. I am honestly appalled that you would speak of Kimi is such a disrespectful manner. As for me, it's none of your business how I make my money, or how I live my life. That is my business, and Ian's. As for Philip, I won't speak for him." 

"Oh, I agree." Lip nodded, glaring at his sister. 

Fiona's mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. How did things go sideways so fast? She had a plan, and it sounded like a good one in her head. But somehow she's ended up the bad guy.

"I just don't understand." Fiona replied simply. "And I miss you guys." 

"We miss you too, Fi." Ian said, smiling sadly. "But this is what we want. Right, Lip?" 

"Yep." Lip replied simply. 

"Fiona, please understand, I am so happy." Ian said, biting his lip. "I'm happier with Mickey than I ever thought I could be."

"Are you taking your meds, Ian?" Fiona asks, surprising her brother. He hasn't thought about his meds in months, it's just not part of his life anymore. But Fiona doesn't know that. She can't know that.

"Of course I am." I replied smoothly. "Why would you even ask that?" 

Fiona shrugged. "You just seem different." she leaned forward, staring at Ian's face. "I can't put my finger on it, but you are. Different." 

"I don't know what to tell you, Fi." Ian said, squeezing Mickey's hand. "You can question me all you want. Doubt me all you want. I don't want you to worry, but I can't stop you. I just wish you could see, this is what I want. It's all I want." 

Mickey ducked his head, trying to hide his smile. He doesn't need the reassurance, but it's still nice to hear it. 

"Well, okay then. Are you at least coming back to Chicago?" Fiona asks, hopeful. 

"About that..." Lip started. 

Mickey sighed. Of course it couldn't be easy...

 

***

 

Ian was happy to be away from Fiona for a little while. Happy to be free of her probing questions and imploring eyes. They were only going to be in Chicago for a few weeks, and Ian didn't want to spend the whole time under Fiona's scrutiny. 

So that's how he found himself in Lucas's car, heading to Heathen, a gay bar in Boystown. 

This is the first time Ian and Mickey have seen Lucas since the fight with the Order. It's not as uncomfortable as Ian thought it would be. Lucas isn't a bad guy, Ian knows that. But he's also aware of Luke's history with his mate. It's a bit awkward, but not nearly as much as Ian had anticipated. 

He was telling the truth when he told Mickey he's not jealous. He's not. Not even a little bit. Maybe that's the part that's fucking Ian up so much. He feels like he SHOULD be jealous. He should feel insecure. He should hate Lucas, because he fucked Mickey first. Because he wanted Mickey, still wants Mickey. Because he wants Mickey to turn him, and will probably ask Mickey to do it before they part ways again. 

But Ian has no feelings one way or the other about Lucas. The man and his feelings are a non-issue. Just that fact is so bizarre to Ian. He's an emotional creature. Always has been. And the old Ian would be throwing fists right now. 

Instead, he's calmly walking into Heathen with Mickey on his arm and Lucas trailing behind them like an eager puppy. 

They all know why they are here tonight. It's not like it's a secret. Ian has been talking about a feeding session like this for months. 

It's not like he wants a threesome. Not really. It's just...he knows what his mate was like before they found each other. The sex, the blood...

He's not so much jealous, more intensely curious. He wants to know. He wants to see it all for himself. Feel it. He wants to share this experience with his mate. He wants to be part of every aspect of Mickey's life, even the darker, more complicated ones. 

He wants Mickey to walk away from this experience knowing no one will ever compare to Ian. 

He is not jealous, but he's ready to prove he's the best. 

He may be Upir, but he's still got human emotions. Like pride.

So what? 

He may or may not be trying to prove something tonight, who cares? 

Mickey greets the man at the door with a smile, shaking his hand as the man waves them into the crowded club.

He knows this place well, he's been here countless times before over many years. Diego the bouncer is an old friend who often sends tasty looking boys his way. He's a Santero in a powerful Santeria group in Chicago. One of the most powerful witches Mickey has ever known. He and Mickey go way back. Diego is a good friend to have in the supernatural underworld. Diego eyes Ian hungrily, waggling his eyebrows at Mickey.

"Back the fuck up, asshole." Mickey barks, glaring at the bouncer. 

Diego puts his hands up, surrendering before the altercation can begin. "Mickey, Mickey, no worries." Diego sputters, smiling. "It's just...you always bring the prettiest boys." 

Ian turns at that statement, giving Mickey a questioning look. Mickey rolls his eyes as Lucas chuckles beside him. 

"I do." Mickey confirms. No use in denying it. "Diego, this is my partner Ian. Ian, this is Diego, an old friend. You remember Lucas." 

"I do." Diego replied, nodding toward Lucas before locking eyes with Ian. 

"Nice to meet you." Ian said, taking in the other man. Diego was about his age, maybe a few years older. Tall and muscular, with dark hair and darker eyes. His caramel skin dotted with a collection of eclectic tattoos. Dressed in all black, the man was as intimidating as he was alluring. 

"Likewise." Diego smirked, his eyes traveling down Ian's body. He glances at Mickey, smirking. "Mikhailo, I never would have guessed you'd take a mate. I suppose even the Orishas can't predict everything."

"Enough." Mickey spat, moving between the two men. "I need a private room."

"So demanding, this one." Diego laughed, waggling his finger in Mickey's face. Mickey rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. 

"Can we get a room, or what?" Mickey said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Ian stood there, witnessing this odd exchange between his mate and the bouncer. There was something there. Between them.

Ian feels like he's losing his mind. Everywhere he turns, he sees one of his mate's potential ex-lovers. This whole evening is like a test of Ian's newfound state of mind. He feels like he's let go of his old jealousies, but every once in a while that odd bubble of insecurity will pop up. 

"Yeah, yeah." Diego replied, turning toward the back of the club. He waved them on over his shoulder. "This way." 

Mickey and Ian followed, Lucas trailing behind them. They weaved their way through the crowd, dodging bodies and grabbing hands. Diego lead them across the floor toward the back corner of the club. There was a hallway, lit up with red sconces. Ian took in the space, from the textured wallpaper to the marble floors. The bright red, numbered doors lining the hall on each side. 

Diego stopped in front of a room at the far end of the hall. A black number 8 affixed to the glossy red door. 

"Don't make a mess." Diego said, opening the door. "We had to pay a hazmat team like a grand last time, took them hours to clean up all the blood." 

Mickey grinned, shaking his head. "Yeah, sorry about that." 

"Whatever." Diego replied. "Just don't do it again." 

"We won't." Mickey promised. 

"Good. You should stop by the shop sometime." Diego said, smiling. "I could always use more vampiro blood for my rituals." 

"I'll think about it." Mickey replied, eager to end this conversation and move on to what they came for tonight. 

Diego rolled his eyes, laughing as he started back down the hallway, leaving them to it. "You do that." 

Mickey entered the room, Ian and Lucas trailing behind him. Ian glanced around the space, taking in the decor. 

It looked like any other back room at any other gay club. The long couch dominating the space, the tapestries lining the maroon walls, the black tables placed here and there. There was a tall dark wood shelf on the back wall. The shelves were filled with knickknacks and abstract art pieces. A small stereo stood on the middle shelf, already playing electric metal softly in the background. 

Ian dropped down on the couch, throwing his arms over the back of the sofa, legs spread wide. 

Mickey smirked at him, flicking the lock on the door before sauntering over to his mate. He dropped down on the couch next to Ian, glancing over at Lucas, who was still hovering nervously by the far wall. 

"I never knew you to be shy." Mickey remarked, eyeing Lucas curiously. "Come over here." 

Lucas smiled shyly, crossing the room and stopping a few inches from the couch. 

"So I suppose we should talk ground rules before we begin." Mickey said, reaching up to run his fingers through Ian's red hair. "Since this is Ian's first time in a situation like this, and your first time with more than one Upir, Luke." 

"I think I understand the logistics." Lucas replied, smiling. 

"No, I don't think you do." Mickey countered, his fingers sliding down Ian's chest. His mate hummed, arching into the contact. Mickey smirked, his fingers working the buttons of Ian's shirt open slowly. "You've never had more than one Upir feeding from you at once. It can be overwhelming and easy to get carried away. If you start feeling weak, like you may pass out, you need to say something right away. We can't have you dying on us, Luke. Do you understand?" 

Lucas nodded, watching with hungry eyes as Mickey slid Ian's shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor behind the couch. 

Mickey's boyfriend was fucking gorgeous. Of course, Lucas knew this already. But seeing him shirtless and already panting was doing fucked up shit to Lucas. His dick is already twitching and no one's even touched him yet. He's always been hot for Mickey. He's mysterious and sexy and has this dominant quality to his personality that just fucked Lucas right up. 

But Ian is a sexy in a whole new way. His body is insane, but he's got none of Mickey's Upir cockiness. Not yet, anyway. He's too new to the life to be so sure of himself. Lucas is drawn to his softness. His human reticence. Makes him feel like the playing field is a little bit more level. That's a first for Lucas. He always feels like he's at a distinct disadvantage during these interludes with Mickey.

"I'll just use my safe word, Mick." Lucas replies, making quick work of his own shirt. He can't tear his eyes away from Mickey and Ian. Ian is pulling Mickey's shirt over his head, letting it fall to the floor in favor of pulling Mickey close. 

Mickey straddles Ian's waist, tipping his head back as his lover attaches his lips to Mickey's throat. Mickey's head hangs back and he locks eyes with Lucas from his upside down vantage point. "And that word is?"

"Erm, tugboat." Lucas replies, taking a few steps toward the enticing couple. 

Ian busts out laughing, gripping Mickey's hips and easily moving him off his lap. He sets his mate next to him on the sofa, giving Lucas a questioning look. "Tugboat?" 

"Well, yeah." Lucas shrugged, finally standing in front of the couple. Ian reaches out, threading a single finger through Lucas's belt loop. He tugged downward, and Lucas fell to his knees in front of the couple, his dick twitching once more. "A safe word is a word that won't come up during normal play. It's not like I'll say it accidentally. So you know I mean business when you hear it." 

Mickey chuckled, leaning forward and grabbing Lucas's hair. Lucas hisses as Mickey dragged him closer, until he was kneeling between the two topless Upirs. 

"Good to know." Mickey said, releasing Lucas's hair and leaning back on the couch cushions. "Do me a favor, Luke. Let's lose these pants, huh?" 

Lucas nodded, eager. Mickey glanced over at Ian, smirking as he lifted his hips. Lucas's hands were quick, undoing Mickey's pants and sliding them off along with his underwear. "C'mere." Mickey beckoned Ian once he was naked. 

Ian leaned over, slotting their mouths together. He dipped his tongue into Mickey's mouth, savoring his taste. Mickey's hand slipped into his hair, curling his fingers into the strands. Ian was so lost in Mickey, he jumped a little at the feeling of foreign fingers on his hips. 

He didn't stop kissing Mickey, though. He simply rocked his body up so Lucas could divest him of his pants too. The moment he is free of them, the moment he feels cool air on his hard cock, he pulls Mickey back into his lap. He needs to feel him. Every part. 

Mickey moans at the feeling of Ian's skin against his. No matter how many times they make love, no matter how many times they fuck like animals, Mickey is enraptured like he was the very first time. 

Ian's hands curl around Mickey's hips, sliding along his smooth, cool skin until they land on his ass. Ian grips the muscle tight, rolling his hips up, grinding his cock against Mickey's sack. Mickey's fingers are still in Ian's hair, pulling him any way he wants him as he bites and sucks on his lips. Ian moans lowly, his tongue tangling with Mickey's outside their mouths.

"Jesus Christ." Lucas's astonished voice breaks the men out of their moment. He's standing by the edge of the couch, naked and stroking his cock. "I knew it was gonna be hot, but this is ridiculous." 

"Get over here." Mickey laughed, falling off Ian's lap and landing on the other side of the couch. Ian and Mickey are both sitting there, naked and ready. Their dicks hard, their chests heaving with synchronized, unnecessary breaths.

Lucas bit his lip, nodding. He's nervous for some reason. Call it performance anxiety. He can feel the pure sex radiating off the other two men, their connection palpable in the room. Lucas has no idea where he fits in that equation, but his leaking cock is certainly interested in finding out. 

He settles between the men on the couch, his body trembling in anticipation.

"Ian, my love." Mickey says, trailing his fingers along Lucas's toned chest. "Whatever you want, okay?" 

Ian nods, his eyes dark. He glances at Lucas, smiling deviously. All teeth. Lucas shivers. 

Oh my. 

"Let's feed first." Ian decides, his fingers dancing along Lucas's shoulders. He reaches up, tangling his fingers in Lucas's short hair, pulling his head back sharply. Lucas hisses, his hips bucking up into nothing. 

Mickey laughs, shaking his head. His mate is so predictable sometimes. "As you wish, my love." Mickey trails his fingers across Lucas's chest, watching as his skin erupts in goosebumps. He drags his hand along Lucas's arm until he gets to his wrist. He pulls the man's arm towards his lips, his mouth flooding with venom as the scent of Lucas's warm skin permeates his nostrils. 

Mickey bares his teeth, peaking up at Ian. Ian's fist is tight in Lucas's hair, his tongue running along the man's neck slowly, like he's taste testing his skin. A low growl slips past Ian's lips as he finally bares his teeth, sinking into Lucas's throat with little resistance. 

Mickey could watch Ian feed all day. There is just something about his mate succumbing to his desire that turns Mickey the fuck on. The way he takes what he wants, so effortlessly, so calmly. It's quite enticing. 

Ian's lips are tight around the wound, not spilling a single drop as he takes his fill. Mickey is impressed. He smiles, finally submitting to his own thirst. He sinks his teeth into Lucas's wrist, severing the vein there.

Blood gushes into his mouth, setting his senses alight. 

Lucas's blood tastes good, but it's not Ian's blood. His mate has ruined him, in all the best ways. Blood just isn't as satisfying anymore if it's not Ian's delectable plasma on his tongue. Mickey groans, pulling Lucas's arm closer as he pulls the man's blood down his throat. 

Lucas moans, utterly overwhelmed by the sensation. Being fed on by Upirs is an experience. It's so erotic, his body tight, his dick throbbing against his stomach. But it's also intoxicating. More mind numbing than any high he's ever felt. It's like floating on a sea of blissful ecstasy. More titillating than any sex he's ever had. His body is buzzing, all his nerve endings on fire. His heart hammering in his chest as he moans uncontrollably. He's hit with the odd desire to submit entirely, to give himself to Ian and Mickey. Body and soul. 

That's when he knows it's time to stop. He doesn't want to, but he does want to keep living. 

"Tugboat." he groans, even as he's leaning into the sensation. 

Mickey pulls off immediately, running his tongue along Lucas's wound to seal it. He glances up at Ian warily, readying himself to wrestle his mate off Luke's body. 

To his delight, Ian pulls off moments later, gasping. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning down at Lucas. Ian flattens his tongue over Lucas's neck wound, sealing it instantly. The only evidence left behind is a small white scar by the base of his throat. 

Mickey is always impressed by Ian. His restraint is impeccable. His little Upir fledgling is growing up fast.

"That was intense." Lucas huffs, grinning. 

"That was just the beginning." Ian chuckled, grabbing Lucas around the waist and throwing him down on the couch. Lucas's stomach hits the plush cushions, pushing all the air out of his lungs in whoosh. His face is buried in Mickey's lap, and he can't help but inhale deeply. Mickey's always smelled alluring. Something exotic, otherworldly. This moment is no different. Lucas noses along Mickey's hip and stomach, dragging his tongue along his cool flesh until he gets to what he really wants. He wraps his hand around Mickey's cock, pumping it a few times before guiding it toward his salivating mouth. 

Ian sits on the sofa, rubbing Lucas's back and ass, his eyes fixed on Mickey's as Lucas's head bobs in his lover's lap. If Ian had any residual inclinations that this evening would end in a fit of jealousy, those worries are gone now. Because even as Lucas pleasures his mate, Mickey's eyes stay locked on Ian's. Like they are the only two in the room. The only two in the world. 

Mickey grins at him, eyebrows raised. He motions toward Lucas's ass with one hand, tangling his free fingers in the man's hair, guiding his movements. Lucas gags, but doesn't pull off. Instead he redoubles his efforts, sinking lower, sucking harder. Mickey gasps, his eyes rolling back in his head. 

That look of pure pleasure on his lover's face finally spurs Ian into action. He kneels on the couch, one foot on the floor. He grabs Lucas's hips, pulling the other man into a crouched kneeling position. 

High off the blood infusion and incredibly fucking horny, Ian spreads Lucas's ass wide, huffing out a laugh when he spies the hot pink butt plug nestled between his cheeks. 

"You're a horny little slut." Ian laughed, pressing on the plug with his thumb. Lucas's back arched, a muffled moan ripping out of his chest. Mickey laughed, waggling his eyebrows at his mate. 

Ian grinned back, gripping the plug with his fingers. He twisted it a little, pushing and pulling. Lucas was writhing, his body vibrating with pleasure. He buried his face in Mickey's pubes, his throat flexing around Mickey's cock.

"Fuck." Mickey groaned. "Suck that dick." 

Ian moaned at the sight, finally pulling the plug free from Lucas's ass. Lucas's whole body jerked, his hips rocking backwards. Ian gripped Lucas's hip in one hand, using the other to guide his leaking cock toward the other man's open and waiting hole. Lucas's ass was slippery with lube, his hole glistening in the lurid red lights of the club's back room. 

"Go on, love." Mickey said, ripping Ian out of his fugue state. Ian nodded, biting his lip. He knelt on the couch, pressing his hard cock against Lucas's ass. His eyes stayed fixed on where their bodies met as he pushed forward slowly until he was buried deep inside Lucas's ass. 

Lucas went rigid under Ian's hands, but Ian was in no mood to be patient. He gripped Lucas's hips tightly, thrusting forward roughly. 

He fucked the other man hard, his fingers digging into his skin as he rolled his hips.

Mickey watched, hypnotized, as his mate took his pleasure. He's never seen Ian this way before. Watching him fucking someone else from a third party perspective should not be so sexy. But just like everything else about Ian, Mickey is enraptured. The way his body moves, the way his strong hands grip Lucas's hips hard enough to bruise. The way his Upir eyes glow with pleasure. The dry blood caked around his lips, his mouth hanging open as he moans unabashedly. 

It's almost enough to send Mickey over the edge. 

His fingers tighten in Lucas's hair, his hips thrusting up into his hot, wet mouth. 

"Fuck, Ian." Mickey mumbles. "You look so fucking hot right now." 

Ian locks eyes with Mickey over Lucas's body. Again, it feels like just the two of them in the room. Like Lucas is a tool to them, a toy. 

It's a horrible thought, but Ian thinks it just the same. And the hungry look in Mickey's eyes tells Ian he's not the only one thinking it. 

Mickey breaks the eye contact first, his head dropping back as a low moan slips past his lips. He grips Luke by the back of the head, forcing him to take his whole cock down his throat. "Ian, I'm close." 

"Go on, then." Ian laughs, driving into Luke's tight ass harder. "I'm right behind you, baby." 

"Told you not to call me that." Mickey sighed, thrusting up into Luke's mouth. The other man gagged, but Mickey paid no mind. He tightened his hold on Lucas's head as his orgasm ripped through him. He filled Luke's trembling mouth, shaking through a powerful release. 

Ian watched Mickey fall apart, his own hips stuttering at the beautiful sight. Watching Mickey come undone was enough to have Ian coming. He still deep inside Luke's ass, choking out a moan as he came hard enough make him dizzy. 

Ian swayed on his knees, giggling a little as he pulled out. He dropped back down on the sofa, sated and loopy with blood-drunkenness. 

Lucas pulled off Mickey's cock, coughing a little as he struggled to sit up between the two men. "Jesus." he wheezed. "I feel debauched." 

"As you should." Mickey laughed. "Are you good?" he asks, his eyes falling to Luke's soft dick. 

"Oh, fuck yeah." Luke grinned, waggling his eyebrows. "I came so fucking hard." he motioned to the come cooling on the couch cushions. 

"Well, shit." Mickey sighed, standing and gathering his clothes. "Diego is going to have our asses. There's cleaner in the cabinet." Mickey said, tossing Lucas his pants. "Clean that up before it dries." 

Lucas huffed, rolling his eyes. "Bossy little vampire, aren't you?" 

"Upir." Ian and Mickey replied in unison, eliciting a chuckle from Lucas. 

"Yeah, you guys are bonded soulmates for sure. One brain bullshit." 

Ian laughed, grabbing Mickey around the waist and pulling him to his chest. "Fucking right we are. Perfect match." Ian dipped his head down, kissing Mickey passionately. He could already feel his dick stirring. 

Upirs have a fabulous refractory period. 

He needed to get Mickey back to the house, so they could get some alone time, just the two of them. 

They dressed silently, the passion of the moment fading with their cooling blood. It wasn't tense, surprisingly. Mickey had been right all along. Ian felt nothing for Lucas, no lust toward him, and not a drop of jealousy either. He was just a friend, a good companion to keep around. Someone fun to play with, to feed from. Nothing more. 

It was a freeing moment for Ian. Letting go of those human restraints that held him back for so long. Ian's bond with Mickey transcended all that, Ian is certain of it now. His love and devotion to his mate are all consuming, and no other man's mouth or ass or affections could ever change that. 

Bonded. For all eternity. 

Once Lucas had cleaned up his mess to Mickey's satisfaction, the three men left the room, then the club. Mickey waved to Diego on their way out the door. Diego smirked, sending Mickey some obscene hand gestures. Mickey rolled his eyes, flipping the bouncer off as they made their way out of the club and into the Chicago streets. 

Lucas drove them back to the Gallagher house. The soft sounds of classic rock filled the car as the men chatted about Lucas's work on the police force and his off the books work with the Guild. That surprised Mickey for some reason. 

"Ha, since when do you work for the Brotherhood?" Mickey chuckled. Wonders never ceased in this crazy world Mickey wandered through. 

"Since that shit with Ian's whackado brother." 

"He's not my brother." Ian spat from the backseat. "Blood does not make a brother." 

"Good point, baby Upir." Lucas replied, causing Ian to roll his eyes. 

"I told you to stop calling me that." Ian replied. "Awfully mouthy for a dude who was begging for my cock less than an hour ago." 

"Jesus, Mick. Your man is viscous." 

"I wouldn't have him any other way." Mickey laughed, turning to give his mate a sweet smile. 

Ian grinned back, beaming under his lover's kind eyes. 

"You guys are pretty cute for a pair of undead blood drinkers." Lucas smirked. 

"Um, thanks." Ian replied, smiling. Luke had a way of growing on you. Ian can see why Mickey has kept him around for so long. 

They pulled up in front of the Gallagher house and Lucas parked the car. "Well, thanks for an incredible night out." he said. "We didn't have a single drink, but I feel more buzzed than I have in years." 

Mickey chuckled. "Yeah, we have that effect on people." 

Lucas laughed, shaking his head. "Get outta my car." 

The men said their goodbyes and Ian and Mickey made their way back to the house. Everyone else was already well asleep, it being past one in the morning. 

Ian led Mickey to his old bedroom, locking the door behind them and turning to his mate. 

"You're perfect." Ian said suddenly. He gripped Mickey shirt in his hands, pulling it up and off his body. Mickey smiled, his body breaking out in a wave of delicious tingles. Ian has always elicited strange reactions in Mickey, and the longer they are bonded, the more Mickey changes. It's incredible for a man who had believed he was stuck in time. Growing and changing are two things Mickey never thought he'd do again. 

Leave it to Ian to prove him wrong. 

Once they were naked in bed, tangled in each other again, Mickey totally let himself go. Open and vulnerable underneath his mate, Mickey felt more himself than he ever has in his entire existence. Free in that blissful way that Ian could only elicit in him. 

Mickey sighed, arching his back. He curled his legs higher on Ian's hips, twisting his hands in Ian's hair as he pulled him down for another languid kiss. Ian rocked into him, cupping his ass lovingly. 

"Ian." Mickey sighed. Ian grinned, licking at Mickey's lips tenderly. Mickey dragged his nails down Ian's back, earning himself a sinful moan from his lover. 

"Mick, god. You feel so good. Always feel so good." 

Mickey smiled, slow and lazy. Just a few kind words from his mate and Mickey was a smitten little girl. 

"Ian, right there." Mickey groaned, grinding up into the sensation. "Come on. I'm almost there." 

Ian huffed a laugh, driving into his mate harder. "Bossy little bottom." 

"Do your job, Upir, and I won't have to tell you." Mickey growled, digging his heels into Ian's ass. His mate growled back, fucking Mickey so hard the bed slammed against the wall with each thrust. It didn't take long for Ian to bring Mickey to orgasm. Mickey cried out, coming untouched between their bodies. 

Watching bliss wash over his mate's face, Ian followed him right over the edge. He still atop Mickey's quivering body, releasing deep inside his lover. 

Mickey sighed as Ian pulled out, landing on the mattress next to Mickey with a huff. 

Mickey wiped his mess off his stomach with a dirty sock before rolling over and curling his entire body around his mate's. 

Ian wrapped his arm around Mickey's shoulder, pulling him to his chest. 

"What a day, huh?" Ian murmured, kissing Mickey's hair.

"I bet tomorrow's gonna be crazier." Mickey chuckled, dragging his fingers along Ian's chest. 

"What do you think they're gonna say?" Ian asks, giddy with anticipation. 

"Oh, I'm sure it's going to be a shit show." Mickey replied, that Ian-induced excitement buzzing under his skin once more. 

"It always is with us, isn't it?" 

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i have no idea where any of this came from. but i don't hate it. 
> 
> Mannitoosh: Algonquian word for devil
> 
> Santero: priest of the Santeria religious cult. i don't know anything about this beyond the Sublime song, but i wanted to add another supernatural being to Mick's circle of eclectic friends.
> 
> Orishas: An Orisha is a manifestation of Olodumare (God). ... According to Santeria teaching, the orishas are powerful but not immortal.
> 
> Vampiro: spanish for vampire. I doubt it's actually used in Santeria rituals. Just for fun in the story...

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was inspired loosely by the tv show "hemlock grove" - if you are into this kinda shit, check it out. it's bizarre, but i liked it.
> 
> my work is always unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine & mine alone.


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